QUESTIN’

* Lyrics by Ayinde Webb*

I’m tippy toeing off the ceiling/
I gotta mansion full of rooms just to match my feelings/
I gotta sift through the tunes just to find a reason/
Pulling up the weeds from the seeds that we sewed as children/
Stacking trees, grabba leaves, log cabin for the winter…with that fine linen/
Hibernating with a fine vixen, vino vision../
Got us red as a lemon…screwing up our intuition/
If I make a play for the door, that'd be greasy,
Would you catch me slipping/
If we fall in love. And catch each other, that's the definition/
True bounty measured by the weight of heart and the soul feather/
I’m ready for the weather and whatever thats just my profession, yessir/
Golden child, golden state mind. Yes I had to keep em’ guessin’/
In the east but its more like we’re wild Westin’/
Grown Tutankhamun had to make a wave and repay the blessing, I’m saying/
Soak up the rays from the Sun Mama that's a lesson…Questin’/
To the land of promise with flute fife weapons/
Seraphim keeping the peace, beast with the horn stressing’/
The weight on my shoulder ever balanced like a gymnastic/
Wingspan got reach, how we gully like we ride Tesla/

In my mind’s eye I be thinking I’m all of that/
But when I hit the field, I don’t be feeling none of that/
Im asking for love, they be looking for guns to clap/
Rap till I’m blue black, better give me daps/

Cause I will not/
Pose for you lames to maintain all your games/
I will not/
Remain in a space where they chasing the fame/
I will not/
Return to the level of a low mainframe/
I will not/
Speak to the face of a backstabbing ace/

I’m tippy toeing off the ceiling/
I gotta mansion full of rooms just to match my feelings/
I gotta sift through the tunes just to find a reason/
Pulling up the weeds from the seeds that we sewed as children/
Stacking trees, grabba leaves, log cabin for the winter…with that fine linen/


True bounty measured by the weight of heart and the soul feather/
I’m ready for the weather and whatever thats just my profession, yessir/