PART OF THE PLATOON (POTP)

Part of the platoon, I move when the moon move,

Low voice loose with a room full of loose screws,

Swoup came through with the bass on voodoo,

Bad one whisper, “I could get used to you.”

Part of the platoon, black fit, gold tooth,

Whole night crooked but the whip came smooth,

Don’t ask where, don’t ask who knew,

If the drums start knocking, we marching through.

I been off-map where the signal get stupid,

Two phones dead and the night got humid,

She said, “You dangerous,” I said, “You knew this,”

Then laughed real low like the joke had music.

Whole crew silent, but the shoes talk fluent,

Big step clean with a bad influence,

Room full of smoke and expensive movement,

I don’t chase sauce, I just walk right through it.

Swoup in the function, the lights get nervous,

Bassline hit like the floor got purpose,

Shorty got curves and a grin too certain,

Eyes say trouble but the dress say worship.

I don’t do posts, I don’t prove my presence,

I let myth grow in a room full of questions,

Gold on my mouth with a cold little sentence,

One wrong tone make the mood learn lessons.

Part of the platoon, I move when the moon move,

Low voice loose with a room full of loose screws,

Swoup came through with the bass on voodoo,

Bad one whisper, “I could get used to you.”

Part of the platoon, black fit, gold tooth,

Whole night crooked but the whip came smooth,

Don’t ask where, don’t ask who knew,

If the drums start knocking, we marching through.

Big black coat with the weather inside it,

Mind on fire but the face stay quiet,

She want truth, I gave half and denied it,

Cup too dark for the room to describe it.

I got bad habits with elegant timing,

Hood low, chain glow, moonlight shining,

Every bar bend with the syllables sliding,

Whole beat wobble like the tires misaligned.

No sad speech, no struggle parade,

I came dressed like the debt got paid,

Bad luck grinning from the back of the stage,

I told that bitch, “Behave,” then the whole room waved.

This that low-lit, no-script, nighttime pressure,

Deep voice digging through the sub like treasure,

Shorty keep asking if I know my measure,

I said, “Never,” then stepped with the devils together.

Part of the platoon, I move when the moon move,

Low voice loose with a room full of loose screws,

Swoup came through with the bass on voodoo,

Bad one whisper, “I could get used to you.”

Part of the platoon, black fit, gold tooth,

Whole night crooked but the whip came smooth,

Don’t ask where, don’t ask who knew,

If the drums start knocking, we marching through.

Left, right, step when the kick start snapping,

Mask on tilt and the bad ones clapping,

Whole club jump like the roof unfastened,

I don’t need clout, I need loud reactions.

Part of the platoon, but I’m still too private,

Ghost in the booth with the bassline violent,

If I don’t text back, don’t get childish,

I’m somewhere live where the night went stylish.

Part of the platoon, I move when the moon move,

Low voice loose with a room full of loose screws,

Swoup