Round the buildings words float like sailboats
Over foreign waters;
Flowing fluently like a bilingual
speaking on the unknown as if it's the gospel written in braille;
Round the block words fly bye open ears
Like the breeze of the wind,
Gliding through righteous atmospheres
Frequenting different time zones in strange bar-atones ;
Round the hood the vibe remains the same,
But the folks that know the essence of true character
Don't study the wind's words,
Ignores the block's talk,
And no matter what the building's lips speak
The real knows the true Bonafide Heart…