sexydeltagirl
09-15-06, 05:34 PM
I have an fascination with the way he wears his hat...
And the way he says my name...
I just watch him sometimes...
The way he stands...
How he makes sure he's aware of his surroundings...
You'll never catch the brotha not focused...
On getting from point A to point B safely...
Folks on the corner greet him with much respect...
They applaud his hustle...
He's been there done that...
Such wisdom in a young man not....
25 years removed...
When I'm in his presence...
It's like I'm on top of the Empire State Building...
Breathing in all thats new...
Can he take me any higher than this?
His accented ma's and baby's...
Confine me to the torch of the Statue of Liberty..
Gettin accustomed to his dinners of 5 piece fried chicken and biscuits...
To the West Indian spot that tries...
To copy the delicacies created in his homeland...
He wears sneakers on his feet...
Different shades, different ways to blend...
Whites with grays..
Catching the eyes of some in bright yellow dunks...
He wears what allows for expression without words...
He stands out in a crowd...
He's eclectic, can't find a box he can fit in...
He calls me a professional woman...
Cause my feet won't grace a pair of sneaks...
But he loves the opposite...
Like magnets we attract...
Causing stares when we appear at engagements...
He's no suit wearing brotha, no tux will be worn in front of the minister...
But I love this about him...
I feed off of his need to be different...
Cause in the mist of trying to fit in...
In Corporate America...
I need him to bring me back to my roots..
With a pair of chucks....
I got it bad for this young lad...
Everytime I drive through Manhattan...
Heading to the tunnel...
I get a little somber...
Wishing I could give it all up...
And start my life anew with...
My New York Love Thing...
And the way he says my name...
I just watch him sometimes...
The way he stands...
How he makes sure he's aware of his surroundings...
You'll never catch the brotha not focused...
On getting from point A to point B safely...
Folks on the corner greet him with much respect...
They applaud his hustle...
He's been there done that...
Such wisdom in a young man not....
25 years removed...
When I'm in his presence...
It's like I'm on top of the Empire State Building...
Breathing in all thats new...
Can he take me any higher than this?
His accented ma's and baby's...
Confine me to the torch of the Statue of Liberty..
Gettin accustomed to his dinners of 5 piece fried chicken and biscuits...
To the West Indian spot that tries...
To copy the delicacies created in his homeland...
He wears sneakers on his feet...
Different shades, different ways to blend...
Whites with grays..
Catching the eyes of some in bright yellow dunks...
He wears what allows for expression without words...
He stands out in a crowd...
He's eclectic, can't find a box he can fit in...
He calls me a professional woman...
Cause my feet won't grace a pair of sneaks...
But he loves the opposite...
Like magnets we attract...
Causing stares when we appear at engagements...
He's no suit wearing brotha, no tux will be worn in front of the minister...
But I love this about him...
I feed off of his need to be different...
Cause in the mist of trying to fit in...
In Corporate America...
I need him to bring me back to my roots..
With a pair of chucks....
I got it bad for this young lad...
Everytime I drive through Manhattan...
Heading to the tunnel...
I get a little somber...
Wishing I could give it all up...
And start my life anew with...
My New York Love Thing...