Take 37 Lyrics

If you could believe it

Some days, I hate the sound of my own voice

Like why would anybody wanna listen to ME for five minutes

Let alone 60

It's not raspy, not rugged (Take one, take two, here's another one

It's not overly distinctive (Take three, take four, and another one

But among all these voices (Take five, take six, take 37

How do I stand out

Questioning the script that I've written down, pissed how I spit it out

When I'm in the booth, biggest critic isn't Christgau

Buying macchiatos for my doubts, having sit downs

Asking, "Why my love headed south and y'all stick around

Did Chris Wallace ever go through this nonsense

Feeling like his voice isn't BIG enough to convince

Audience that he is content with his content

And confident that very few will object his project

My insecurities are sticking out, convex

Please let me put it in perspective, context

'93, cherry red boombox

Back when the dude rocked K-Swiss and tube socks

Listening to Tupac, Ice Cube, Black Moon, Redman

Hanging onto every single syllable they said, man

Critical injections, pinnacle inflections

Affected effectiveness of lyrical direction

Entrance, little ol' me swore

I was doing something when I dared to press record

My first rhyme about my ex who would cheat more

Let my homies hear it, "That was cool," didn't seek more

Nah, I ain't expect to hear "the boy's fire

I was two years removed from the boys' choir

Singing Troop to those girls in the classroom

Took me a sabbatical, the culture didn't have room

Another ten years before the booth

But in the meantime, put my voice to good use

As I pulled from my inner Mel Lindsey

Touch of Mel Blanc had the school in a frenzy

Speeches to lead? Yeah, I penned now

Voice of the youth, I was less Lil' Mama, more Les Brown

Plus the poetry would add another fresh sound

But it was that Mario Paint on my Super NES down

In my basement, my flow was kinda basic

Biggie laid the blueprints, all I did was trace it

Parodies, Black Al Yankovic of high school

"You did this on a video game?" "Yeah, I'm a fool

Was a while before they heard "here's another one

Had to get some better words and ton of drums

On the stage, I was better a cappella

Instead of trying to recreate the Wu or Roc-A-Fella

It was boom, tap, as the room clapped

At the first sign of life that the dude rapped

They were moved back, didn't know that he could harness

His way with words usually reserved for the Congress

Ha, monstrous, but largely, I paused it

Probably being comfortable with making beats caused it

But yeah buddy, first time in the booth

Just an intro, but them first lines were the truth

And I heard myself, grown up, compressed

Flow was ji hot, I might need a cold compress

So I wrote complex rhymes to keep my arm stretched

From my competition, but it's still not a contest

Star of the gang, but to masses, I did not appeal

Now it's less Webster's, more '93 Bonnevilles

I rode smooth on the Pro Tools, folks who

Barely knew my middle name ain't believe that I'm the same dope dude

My own wife even gotta ask twice

And I ask myself, "Am I that WACK or that NICE

Breaking down bars: "Man, I could've worded THAT different

What in Sam Hill was THAT blur I ad-libbed in

And THAT syllable was s'posed to be pronounced more

Where was the energy that should've made it bounce more

I mean, it's okay, could've made it count more

Then I hear the crowds shout more and doubt is outdoors

Exhale, that's the breath I had to make

Breathe Gladiator, we ain't doing 37 takes

I just need to get over myself, fam

My voice is my voice

Take one, take two, here's another one

Take three, take four, and another one

Take five, take six, take 37? Chill