About Us

Yo
The big wheel keep turnin’ like ice and animes
The church kitchen hustle dinners every Saturday
Pull over, let me grab a plate
I tend to gravitate
Towards, our fish dinners from a styrofoam platter, taste
My granddaddy sport a plad Donny Hathaway
Hustlin’ for everything we had ’til he passed away
When I would ask about what path to take
He used to laugh and say
No man is an island but I’m a castaway
Casualties, I seen ’em like the French Foreign Legion
On the streets, they used to carry out bizarre procedures
In jean jackets and Jabbar Adidas
Back when local R&B was just as soulful as orthopedics
Me and my man twistin’ up some reefer and
Wishin’ we knew On The Town
Hitman in the lights of sand Christian
On the edge of existence man, listen
Understand, respect and fear was the all-American ambition
For badass kids in the laundromat, foldin’ a load
Well lo and behold, a whole ‘nother fork in the road
My wish for them is that the truth is eventually told
Out on the corner, where whatever you can sell is sold
I heard murder ran a vast deserted land
Since back when Burning Man
Was blacks in Birmingham
Before the presidential election diversion scam
Matter fact, before they clapped Franz Ferdinand