If you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at? Beat: Rob the Viking
Honky Rap, dropped over various instrumentals, with minimal production. Lyrics are well written, poorly recorded, and delivered to you the way that music ought
Marcynic is the 2nd stage evolutionary step for a central cali emcee who is continuously trying to upgrade the skills. With politically driven lyrics sprinkled with hypothetical battle punch-lines, you can laugh your way through all of the tracks, as you ask yourself, 'what makes this guy think he's nice?' Then when the answer becomes apparent, you can go make a sandwich, with real sand. Bitch.
Story behind the song
I originally wanted to write a song that was from the perspective of a Paranoid person, ranting about all sorts of conspiracy's that are usually considered crazy, but then gradually shift into the world of acceptable paranoia, such as people locking their doors and windows at night, and being afraid in a dark alley on the bad side of town.
The point was to illustrate the fact that we are all Paranoid, just some of us more than others..
As i sat down to write some of the lyrics, i listened to the beat, and the lyrics i ended up with just kinda flowed out easily in one writing session.
Lyrics
You've got Marcus on the beat, i've been marked for talking heat,
and that damn sure ain't a plumbers' van thats parked accross the street...
its been there for three weeks and i know the cops post up,
broadcasting God knows what from inside that taco truck..
trying to scheme and plot on how they could lock me up,
and try to put me on ice, like i was a hockey puck,
got me ducking out the back door whenever i split,
but the closer these pigs come, the more clever i get..
And some of these folks will call me clueless,
just 'cuz i chopped off my feet to avoid leaving shoeprints,
no nobody can track me, but if anybody does,
they won't get me, even if they try to frame me with a bloody glove...
::Woop-Woop:: the cop cruiser shows the flashing lights,
stay up half the night memorizing my miranda rights,
if they can check the date on a dime from a satelite,
i'll hafta write my lyrics in the basement, by candlelight..
Thinking about voice date imprints, and microchip implants,
you think Microsoft technology's way too advanced?
Compare it to the hardware that the government has,
a million terrabytes of storage in the head of a match..
Weapons that flash, like the men in black, erasin' your data,
reformat your brain, and program a plan for later,
Manchurian Candidates, yeah, thats the ticket,
wouldn't put it past thier asses, as this cast is wicked..
Fortunately i've studied up on surveillance protocal,
most of what they capture won't hold up inside a court of law,
even so, i no longer will talk on portables, only cord to wall,
plus these phones are way more affordable..
::Click, Click, Blip:: Shit, did you notice that??
Them weird noises in the back? Ayo, i think my phone is tapped...
Plus i know these pigs is watching my home,
so when im chattin with the homies, we be talking in code..
So now the feds gotta watch everywhere that i go,
should i take comfort in the fact that i'm never walkin' alone?
I got a shadow, that jumps in the bushes before i turn around and spot him,
Shit, i coulda swore that i heard a sound...
'Must be nothin' i say, not even foolin' myself,
sometimes i wish i had Batman's utility belt,
with a smokescreen, i could disappear unseen,
flee the scene and prevent the pigs from even peepin' me..
but recently i feel that i've been getting hysterical,
the feeling that i'll never be trusted is terrible,
a law-abiding citizen made to feel like a criminal,
actin' natural, while keepin' watch out the peripheral...
I think i'm paranoid....
Paranoia will destroy yah...
