[Dave] Devil on my shoulder, nights we aint sober. We save sleep for flights and layovers. Daydreams of nights I stayed over, piped with no trojans. Imagine if she kept that kid like Hangover, boy thats game over. Nineteen, made two kids and aint vote yet. My girl leery of my shifty past, while them hoes still waiting for my sister’s pass. And my world still scary, this Christmas past, lost sleep praying that my mama’s sickness pass. Week later heard my tape got the net on smash, but them downloads free, no Christmas cash. Coming down those streets where projects and brownstones meet, where progress and pride don’t eat. Where the white so high, and the brown so cheap that the blacks gotta hustle when the ends don’t meet. So the ladies gotta juggle if them kids gon eat, cuz the chance its a man in the crib so bleak, and they chance can’t advance if the men don’t lead by example. My hands is full, I can’t preach.
[Chorus] Feet to the floor, head to the ceiling. The allure aint never been this appealing. The applause from everyone in the building. The awards, the accolades, the feeling. I wish I could give em that, but my people out here aint living that. I wish I could give em that, when I make it I swear I’ma give it back.
[Chris] Just got a check money burnin in my pocket. Sure, Jesus saves but the devil wears prada. Laced em hit the pavement chasing that mighty dollar. We all had dreams with nightmares to follow. Mine was so vivid like I lived it wit my eyes closed. Everybody scream! Make me wanna holla. I'm Standin on Sinai speakin to my Father. Oh Father forgive em they don't even see the problems. Everybody leads nobody left to follow. Everybody Chief. No more Moses and Martins. Throwing down signs never made it to the promised. Land of the Lost we travel on Yokohamas. Beatin down the block tryna wake the sleepin monsters. Dreamin of bein Nino Brown or OG Bobby Johnson. Praying please don't wake him. He playing Kareem Akbar. Product of the product he peddled to be a rock star.
[Bridge] The writings on the wall. If everybody’s a star, the sky’s gon fall.
[Dave] And when that space fall from the sky at he rate water fall from the eye, change pace. [Chris] And turn marathon to a race. Leave goodyears on the last two years for the chase. Take shots to bring in the new year. Miss a star, hit an angel, it cries two tears. Snow flakes fall, push tons round here. Still the streets never clear, tread light for the fear of slipping but never trip. Its simple just stay aware. Don’t appear to be on edge, don’t communicate fear and respect of your peers is a must. Only in God we trust, what it is cuz we live for the buck.
[Dave] Would you do it all over? Or play the crib like a fucking victrola. Good gig, five figure withholding. Save every little penny like Wilona. Nah! We blew em in Arizona. Through waiting on false ass promoters. For this music a nigga was nearly homeless, tomorrow aint promised I cherish it for the moment.
from Avenue: A,
released September 6, 2011
(C. Butler, D. Giles), produced by Urban Legendz, additional vocals by OHBOI! Niyre, recorded at Studio 284 in Brooklyn NY by Chris of The Paxtons, mixed by Ben Lindell at Smash Studios in New York NY.
In an industry where perception routinely trumps reality, it’s easy to confuse instantaneous buzz with enduring success.
Deriving their name from the block on the south side of Chicago where they were born and raised, The Paxtons strive to create timeless, genre-bending music that innovates without regard to the latest trends....more