[Chorus]
Another night, slips away
In other words, I should say
There are no words, you should say
There are no words,

Ms. Hill, you got skills
That's a gift, it's real
Get ill, what you spit
Got the power to uplift a hill

I wish I could talk to Lauryn
I mean, excuse me Ms. Hill, and let her know how me we love her, it's real
The industry was beating her up
Then them demons started eating her up
She needed a savior that would bleed in a cup
Yup, we used to kick it in the salad days?
But she look at me like she don't know me when she see me nowadays
I nod, she nod back, that's how it stay,
Her songs still better than anything out there the the hotter power play
Remember, how they accused her saying she did an album without help,
Then she went to Rome to sing and tell the Pope about himself,
This after she left the Fugees started rolling with the Marleys
Got back with the crew at Dave Chapelle's block party,
She made songs about Zion and trying to be faithful
The BlackStar and Torture in New York was so grateful,
Speaking for myself but I'm sure I can speak for Dante,
I got to watch her show with Nina Simone and Harry Belafonte,
We used to chill at the Q?
Her moms was a customer
She used to love to buy the books by Octavia Butler,
Parable of the Sword? the main character's name was Lauryn,
What her album did for black folk's self esteem was so important,
I got concerned when she got sick on the road, she ain't heavy,
I'm her brother and I wished that I can pick up the load, but no

[Chorus]

Ms. Hill, you got skills
That's a gift, it's real
Get ill, what you spit
Got the power to uplift a hill

Get an assistant on the phone I need to Lauryn,
I wanna walk through the storm when the rain is pouring
And I can be her umbrella, when the rain is pouring,
Please is no disrespect to whoever your man is though,
This relationship is strictly musical like D'Angelo,
I know you hate Babylon and wanna see it fall,
But they won't let you read your poem at the BET Awards,
You give us hope, you give us faith, you're the one,
They don't like what you gotta say but still they beg you to come,
Whoa, now that's powerful sis,
That's black power, we get money, keep our eyes on the final hour,
And no I ain't saying you Christ, that would be sacrilegious, right,
But you could blow and you nice, sista them raps is vicious,
Them raps assisted the sight, with the black fist up,
Devils last wishes is a queen who rise pass bytches,
We used to read Francis Crest or anything
But third world press or press, but with the power of the word could just
Pass ideas in our heads like birds in nest,
You gave birth to a new sound like D. West,
Should I be saying all of this while the mic is on,
I might as well let it out cuss one day I might be gone,
I write this song and hope you feel how much we love you when you play it,
Cuss I ain't really got the words to say it,
But yo

[Chorus]

Ms. Hill, you got skills
That's a gift, it's real
Get ill, what you spit
Got the power to uplift a hill

Another night, slips away
In other words, I should say
There are no words, you should say
There are no words,

Ms. Hill, you got skills
That's a gift, it's real
Get ill, what you spit
Got the power to uplift a hill

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): BENJAMIN KWELLER