Simple Man - The Grouch

What are you?

I’m just a simple man

I like pretty things

I’m a simple man, really

I’m just a simple man

I like pretty things;

I like funny things

I like my high hats on eighth

Notes, basic, don’t double up the flow

I ride the beat;

you chase it

Hennessey straight with the lemon squeezed to quench

Sounds from the town, they pound with intent

Experiment with this like it’s different cause it is

They make the norm, and it’s not what I live

I give my all and want to ball like y’all

But I can only spit my shit, you get it?

I’m not a clone;

I got a zone, and Grouch fits in

Forever rockin' twenty-dollar pants to the end

I stand six-one and eat food with cheese in it

Make g’s and spend it at the music store

I never use no more than my head to be led where I’m goin'

Knowin' points of interest well

And with the sense it takes to make underground tapes dope

I formulate how I set sail

Whether direct or retail I prevail on tracks

A few bars deep and bizarro on scratch

Borrow from a batch of, let’s say, garbage-ass records

Not too safe to me with few exceptions

True direction comes from inside the mind

And everything else is just accessory

That is my recipe for life, and the best of me

I want my lady here tonight caressin' me

Now you can pay me in this type necessity

Electricity of mic, invest in me the soul

I’m just a simple man

I like pretty things

I’m a simple man, really

I’m just a simple man

I like funny things;

I like beans and rice

I’m just a simple man

I like stupid things

I’m a simple man, really

I’m just a simple man

I like funny things;

I like cheap things

Give me the body of a goddess face from God

It’s odd how things fall in place

I’m all about good taste, expensive or not

No sensitive spot in you, I like what I got

Now don’t mistake man for mind, cause I’m not simple-minded

Just logical, efficient and completely on time

With my thoughts in the process always bring progress

I guess this clockwork enabled me to not work

Nine to five, I rhyme and drive to eat

Check the Internet, fuck and make a beat

Go to wack show, sometimes it’s still fun

We criticize fools for bitin' on Big Pun

Since this is the West Coast I like my hip-hop bumpin'

Get heated off some wax with the side of sayin' something

In the trunk and in the earphones

I’ll make it clear, homes

I’m all about how it sounds

I deal with audio

My graffiti looks like shit

I dress how I dress and can’t really dance a lick

The chance is this shit might never catch on

But my friends like my songs, and I like my songs

Life-long endeavors for the pleasure

Measure of up to error comin' weak, that’s the treasure

I’m just a simple man

I like basic things

I’m a simple man, really

I’m a smart man

I like pretty things;

I like dope things

I’m just a simple man

I like music fresh

I’m a simple man, get it?

I’m just a simple man

I like pretty things;

I like pretty girls