Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Walk Into The Sun , by - Organized Konfusion. Release date: 28.10.1991
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Walk Into The Sun , by - Organized Konfusion. Walk Into The Sun |
| The sun reflects off of the waves at sea |
| Rain support roots that implants the tree |
| There’s a breeze — in the park, kites fly high |
| Under the branches, con-vertibles fly by The sky. |
| .blue, fields green |
| Paints a picture that creates a scene |
| of the destiny that controls my fate |
| Reflections of light, creates shapes |
| Inside of this particular sphere, I see kids in the street |
| When I pass, I go Beep! |
| Beep! |
| Beep! |
| See the black boy over there runnin scared |
| His old man runs numbers summers |
| Come in and he’ll feel dumb if his son |
| doesn’t have a new pair of sneakers |
| So he combinates people’s numbers in sequence |
| when play straight, but not in the leaders |
| Hip-Hop pumps inside of Jeeps and cars |
| It’s daytime but we still peep stars |
| Parties every night, we gotta move, we gotta go We gotta step, let’s, jet! |
| We gotta get away, we gotta do it now |
| We gotta walk into the sun! |
| Ha hah |
| We gotta get away, we gotta do it now |
| We gotta walk into the sun! |
| We gotta get away, we gotta do it now |
| We gotta walk into the sun! |
| Ha hah |
| We gotta get away, we gotta do it now |
| We gotta walk. |
| in.to. |
| the. |
| sun. |
| Love and hate, black and white |
| Right or wrong, who is right? |
| Some smoke joints to annoint their brain |
| to the vanishing point, so they won’t go insane |
| Mother may I? |
| Yes you may |
| Take some giant steps, to go out, and play |
| I got next, sorry Duke, I got my five |
| You better call next, and step to the side |
| There’s no specific topic of speech in this rhyme |
| I just wanna go on a ride |
| on a kaleidoscopic tree, visually. |
| .individually, we go our seperate ways |
| to get our haircuts and mustaches trimmed |
| Rockin a t-shirt, shorts with thick socks |
| with my boots that I nickname Tim-ber |
| Here comes dayfall |
| I can remember when we used to chill and hang |
| with Paul, Sea. |
| We gotta get away, we gotta do it now |
| We gotta walk into the sun! |
| Ha hah |
| We gotta get away, we gotta do it now |
| We gotta walk. |
| in.to. |
| the. |
| sun. |
| Sittin on a stoop, while the Johnny-pump shoots |
| water while we eat fruits |
| The radio pumps, rockin to L.O.N.S. |
| and yes |
| the girls display flesh by the way they dress |
| The Ave surprises, the fulfilling collage |
| of scratches that strike like sticky matches |
| Attacking techniques with combinating |
| Constantly motivating highly elevating the light steps |
| When the air gets thick and you can feel the tension |
| I bypass Howard, and detour Benson |
| Cause I don’t really feel like fencing today |
| So I chill in my own dimension and listen to the sax blow. |
| . |
| flow, abstract the sax always seems to relax you |
| But at the same time, it attacks you |
| In this particular era of darkness |
| Bust a rhyme that might enlighten the mind and spark this |
| trail to follow the light that’s guiding you from |
| the evil that you walk into the sun |
| From what I see it’s an addiction |
| I’ll explain to the brain about pain affliction |
| Grab my hand, hold it tightly |
| Close your eyes and maybe you might see what I see |
| Yo, what I said simplistic |
| But what I see’s not materialistic |
| My hayfever is actin up, so I took a couple of antihistamines |
| WHEW! |
| I got struck with relief |
| Now patiently, I wait for the summer |
| Cause the spring brings pollen and that can be a bummer |
| A terrific brother was havin a specific get-together by the beach |
| Rolling Rock’s, plus Peach Schnapps, served on the rocks |
| The Organisms play the boardwalk, pullin numbers from Pros’Peak |
| The scenario, where we go pumpin the Alpine stereo |
| Hop along the turnpike on our way to the merry-go- |
| -round up the herbs at six flags; |
| we’re on a mission |
| Hittin the streets of New York in zig-zags |
| Walkin to the park, hark, the herald, named Erald |
| who creates with charts |
| Central Park swarms with intellectual dialects |
| With the potential, of the city’s best emergency medical techs |
| So I dip dip dive |
| Listen to the musicians in the park play live |
| The Funky Drummer was drummin even though he was a bum |
| Some couldn’t comprehend, the vibe that blended |
| With the sum, there were some, who wasn’t dumb |
| I supported with the hum, dropped five bucks, cause he was the one |
| Yo, I gave a clap, I gave a wink, I gave a shout |
| I gotta meet the Monch, STRIKE THREE, and I was out! |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| Stress | 1994 |
| Bring It On | 1994 |
| You Won't Go Far ft. Organized Konfusion | 2006 |
| Releasing Hypnotical Gases | 1991 |
| Thirteen | 1994 |
| Black Sunday | 1994 |
| Open Your Eyes | 1991 |
| Why | 1994 |
| 3-O-Clock ft. Organized Konfusion | 2013 |
| Maintain | 1994 |
| Audience Pleasers | 1991 |
| Fudge Pudge | 1991 |
| Stress Remix | 1994 |
| Hate | 1996 |
| Keep It Koming | 1994 |
| 9xs Out of 10 | 1996 |
| Sin | 1996 |
| Chuck Cheese | 1996 |
| Confrontations | 1996 |
| Somehow, Someway | 1996 |