Yo homes, what up?
What up with you?
What we gonna say?
What we gonna do?
Where we gonna go?
What we gonna see?
We're goin' to
I'm moving down the aisle with my homeys in tow
We're groovin' in the home of the librarian (yo!)
She checks us out from behind thick glasses
We walk right past and we wiggle our asses.
Hemingway, Lawrence, Chekhov and Miller
Fitzgerald was a freak, Mailer is a killer
The silence is golden
To books I am beholden
I know I'm bad,
'Cuz of the knowledge that I'm holdin'!
And I give you one warnin'
There will be no repeats:
Get out of my face
While I'm readin' my Keats.