I’m not tryna – (ooh) be superstitious   I’m not asking for a mystical civil society,   That would just be too – Ooh hoe hoe hoe factitious   And I ain’t dropin just another cliché   Wits say someone’s gotta start this discourse   And if you wanna pass hey yeah yeah this course   Facts don’t rest with Adam and Eve   Just leave the past or you’ll be deceived   The mission today – today, today – is to fight for equality   In actuality that means quality action – quality action   That’s if you fancy a true connection   We gotta set the table and go full course   I promise you won’t dose – oh no no no   Curiosity’s got you going louse on my noise    Cause this time I spit what’s stored in your heart   I must be hinting on silence   Compared to violence… Silence is just as crude   Dude I could lie but I promised to set the mood   (set the mood, yeah-yeah set the mood. Oh-oh)      On the rhythm of love   The rhythm of love   The rhythm of love   The rhythm of love      When you see quiet waters   Hey, yeah yeah yeah na na   It could be that deep down underground   where the sound is bona fide   (Trouble’s winning an award for destruction – yeah yeah)   Couples in correlation making promises but no action   Empty words sounding smooth   like African Boy’s versus (yeah yeah yeah)   Silent love portrayed in purple blue stains   She’s in chains, but she’s deceived   And she believes (oh) that she’s weak   Solitude scares her more (scares her more)   And so she stays in shackles   Making you and I (ooh na na na na) believe that those are jewels of love   Dream on if you believe – dream on – (na na na na ooh dream on, dream on)      Talk about shackles, (fetters they be hidden too)   Sisters wanna play (mould the clay)   See how we play our artistic flavour on brothers   She can’t find Mr. Right    No no no no no   But she sure knows how to choose him right   She’s got the craft to make him spot on   Her favourite game? (To put the puppet show on)      And if he doesn’t wanna bend   She won’t say nothing but give him the look on   And he will say nothing – nothing -, but repent   With Dolce & Gabbana maybe Versace, Gucci,   (Truworths if you’re local),   come on girls – yeah, yeah, yeah ye ye ye – the truth must be vocal      If he ain’t got the loot, some chocolate will do   And when she’s stout and loud,   He’ll have reason to leave or deceive this boat – na na na na na      See I got food for thought,   I’m a word kleptomaniac   Lord, let this soul sister spill some facts   Let me spill it, let me, let me, le me, le me, le me spill it      The rhythm, the rhythm, the rhythm of love   The rhythm of love   Name brands – ooh, ooh, na na – and papers   make life a game of traps   Penda knows he’s game is lame lame, lame   but seeks his fame. He’s ready for clubbin,   He’s got his gear on. Stay clear cause   the plan is to dunk some girls,   He made some bills now   he’s revolutionized Fellies for Timbo’s   He’s the star in his own music video,   Jacob the jeweller’s asleep on his arm   Been off duty since he nicked it off some tourist    It sure is big enough to charm,   no one will notice – na na na na na na ooh – the battery’s on strike      Ooh, he’s not sad, check out his mouth’s   going on platinum. Enough to make   the girls go frozen   See how some brother’s be trappin you   You’re hooked like a fly to a piece of stake   Oh, She’s going on a date… She think it’s fate   And so she’s late… He’s gone out the gate   He ain’t coming back, his heart is black   The game is on; he’s got another fool for lovin   Maybe another bun in the oven   Will she sue? What’s the use,   he ain’t got no money honey   ooh, na na na na na na   She had no clue. And she’s so blue.   Oh, now she’s blue      Show the other side of the coin,   Hey yeah yeah yeah   It’s only fair…   Come on girls, (the truth must be vocal) be vocal, be vocal   Hey yeah yeah yeah   She got burnt – burnt, burnt,   Cause she thought   she could get this fake millionaire trapped – trapped, trapped   But he ain’t got no money, honey   She had no clue and she’s so blue      See I got food for thought,   I’m a word kleptomaniac   A brainy act that knows when to stop   Might just find myself on the   wrong side – of the sword   Lord, lord, save me – save me! – if this precision causes a riot,   a riot, a riot, a riot, Amen.      Rhythm of, rhythm of, love   Rhythm of, rhythm of, love   You know it,   You know this rhythm   You know it      Written by: Christi Warner (2008) © Afrochica Entertainment