That Stuff Right There… (Love) A freestyle

Don’t know nothing bout that thing right there;

never wished to figure out what it’s concocted of

But they say it’s poison–that stuff right there;


ah put a jazzy spell on ya,

have you waltzing and day dreaming on pastel clouds,

singing bout moons and magic

and make-believe

But lord when it’s over, man when it’s gone…

You hear what I say?

I said that mess is poison–eats up all the insides,

Heart and spirit too!

That stuff right there is voodoo

You best to realize,

before you go jitter-bugging

and writing bout butterflies,

before you go drawing hearts

with y’all’s names inside

That stuff right there,

that thing right there,

that mess right there…?

Is poison child