The Music Scene has got me down, cuz I don't want to be a clown. Incredible Beat by the one and only Blockhead.
Hip.
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Lyrics
“The Music Scene”
Underground’s what the sound is--
Top floor only hungry for the money anymore
Smashin’ in a flash went from a passion to a damn chore
Wanna find me?
I’ll be in the subway
Like all damn day
Just riding that third rail
Rocket like Ishmael
Breaking from the pack, no slack then I fishtail,
So fast see, no one gonna pass me
just playing Fam, damn, come catch me,
can’t detach me hear a dope beat come running like lassie
you the Great Gatsby?
With your dreams receded and treated like it was a patsy
(1:07)
now a cold case
Brace for a Statute of limitations
Like a stick in the sludge
You won’t budge and you calling it patience
When I was young I could feel the sensations of what is love,
what is hate, and what I thought of as fate.
American dreams
now that the
hands on the clock spun,
not what it seems
all gleams in your eye
have all since died
I’ll chop the block until it’s petrified,
to splinter such idol hands that bested nothing no one
so low on the totem that no one showed him
even me, the responsibility of being free.
(1:35)
A jungle is a desert
that gets too much rain fall.
I think my brain has got arthritis
Man it’s just too painful
Overkill swatting flies
With a chainsaw
Blame me for robbing Peter but don’t you blame Paul
Life is Opportunity’s b*** that won’t call
Potential is a four letter word
that I slurred last night when holding a glass right to my lips
rotten grape juice sips.
Last thing I remembers running round from the block
Saying imma tie one on with a Sauvignon Blanc in my hand
Half dead rolling out of bed, shake the webs cobbed up.
Fogging up of what you said last night with the pipe and the booze and the floozy
Waxing poetic bout the random kinetic energy flowing through make you oh so woozy.
walk twelve steps
13th’s a doozy (doozy doozy doozy)…
Life is a melody of ifs and when’s
situation braking down foes and friends.
Everything you say is gonna put you on the fence.
when they’re cashing in your two cents
blueprints of the new spits what I’m using.
Hip hop fusion
Cat nip for the cats with their hat split,
Absent from a drum and a cracked whip.
Alone I sit! In the valley of the belly of the beast-ling
The Fleecing of America increase at least a piece since my last track release
A mans table scraps is another mans feast
Snippets of little tidbits and morsels
I’m not a scavenger I’m just resourceful
And I’ve got pours full of blood sweet and tears
Through the years with a chest of drawers full
Of everything I ever thought was ever beautiful----
(2:53)
