Keep It Jazzy - Intellectual

Verse 1

I bump Monk in the morning man

That’s my sorta jam

Horace Silver on the keys, Wayne Shorter and

Freddie Hubbard blowin’ bubbles on his trumpet man

That’s really something man

Ain’t it something man?

Well on the other hand

A Miles solo flies me over to another land

Miles smiles, miles in the sky

Birth of cool, kind of blue

Bitches brew, which are you?

----guess it all depends on the situation that you facin’

Or the day of the week

Now jazz is a language that’s crazy to speak

Cause ya ain’t sayin nothin if ya phrasing is weak

I stay shaping the beat

But it’s a difficult task at hand to make ya neck snap

Eva seen Art Blakey vexed at

Elvin, Max Roach, Haynes or Philly joe

Damn he kept the beat really tight like a philly roll

With the rolls fills and the way that he filled the role

But few steal the show like Jack de Johnette, Jimmy Cobb

Billy Higgins, really getting in the swing of things

I love the feelin’ swingin’ brings

I need Mingus for the bass

I need Billie Holiday to sing this

I need Coltrane, I need the fingers

Of Jarret and Evans, I mean the thing is

The way the note lingers

Through the late hours as I’m soarin’

Awaken in the mornin’

Dexter Gordon oratory roarin up in my auditorium

Transmittin’ storybooks, in a stormy form

Creating life within the song he formed

Man you musta got the story wrong

This ain’t nothing like the corny norm

Nah this ain’t nothing like the corny norm

Chorus

Keep it jazzy

That's my only request

Keep it swingin’

Keep it swingin’ and fresh

Keep it cool

Keep it cool and tight

We got the vibe

We got ya feelin alright

Verse 2

While the whole world wildin, I keep silent

Knocked em all ova wit the bowling ball shit that we stylin

Plus the beat got me smiling

It’s so chill, it’s hard to come hardcore

For real, to all the freshmen and sophomores

We the class of veterans schoolin the seniors

Two queens MCs, wit

True demeanor of jazz cats

Ayo pass that

Too many famous MCs thats asscrack

Look out below, the shit we droppin is hazmat

Stand back

Make sure you got ya helmet on and ya stance raw

Hope you prepared for, the mad raw hands-on exhibit in a rare form

The bass drops and hits you like a hail storm

Hard to bail from the maelstrom but this is that official shit ----- put the stamps on your passport

Your last thought, when did EC blast off

This cat told me that jazz is elevator music

I guess it’s all relative depending how you view it

We’re takin it straight up to the top floor

And if you don’t feel it why your head bop for?

I got rhymes

Like blue note’s got records

Enough for millions of measures

I’m deep, but not feelin’ the pressure

My speech, got feelin’ and gestures

My reach, international sectors

We free, not constricted or stressin’

And we stay regeneratin’ cool, fool