歌曲 | North by Northwest |
歌手 | Blue Scholars |
专辑 | Bayani Redux |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
(verse) | |
Live from occupied Duwamish territory | |
Where Carlos Bulosan once lived to tell the story | |
Of the brain, sweat, and glory of mic checks and men | |
Who fight the destination we were destined to end | |
Left the writing on the walls in the halls of the Nippon Kan | |
Others transform, majority Decepticons | |
But my conception of the Walkman's rotation, | |
Is you live in the upper left you've got to have patience | |
Cause ain't no urban radio stations about to play us | |
Unless you sign the dotted and make your songs brainless | |
While you waitin' for the mention in the pages of "The Stranger" | |
You can find me in the basement makin' heaters for later | |
And yes, we all need a little paper to strive | |
But the monsters in your town will put a limp in your stride | |
I exhibit all the time like I'm pimpin' your ride | |
And we've been living in conditions we're tired of | |
Come on and rise up | |
(chorus) | |
Two Scholars rock fresh, North by Northwest | |
And it's still no rest 'cause we're not finished yet | |
We're broke, but not broken | |
Cold, but not frozen | |
Lost but not forgotten, we're kickin' the doors open | |
Two Scholars rock fresh, North by Northwest | |
And it's still no rest 'cause we're not finished yet | |
We're broke, but not broken | |
Cold, but not frozen | |
Movin' in slow motion, it's that Northwest classic | |
(verse) | |
Nine eight double-one eight, the alphabetically 2nd to last state [changed in live version to 4th] | |
Never finished in last place | |
Like the Mariners for 3 years straight | |
From prescriptions we administer the medicine | |
For people still afflicted with acute two-oh-sickness | |
We exist between the gold and the green | |
I paint the soul of the scene | |
Under towers of power, dodging the over Over-fiend daily | |
Causing bones to decay, they say is so far away | |
Couldn't possibly make it, I seen modesty fade | |
And awful lot of hate, but none of which was said to my face | |
I confide inside, my son, but with a fire made of purple | |
I'm a writer for the art, I keep it sharpened with rehearsal | |
The worst is when they mark us to target a market that we're not even a part of | |
If your CD's in Target it means you got distribution, but we still pushin' units | |
With our own two homegrown since youth | |
Thought you knew | |
(chorus) | |
(verse) | |
And they say desegregation was a big step forward | |
But integration only covered up a rotten core | |
The surface might've changed but the cauldron is still hot | |
Now we more politically correct with less real talk | |
They say we liberal but literally not | |
When the cops bend us over while upholding the law | |
Despite the sight of coffee shops on every single block | |
Nearby its supply and demand for the rock | |
It's two types of crack, one legal, one felonious | |
The lumpenprole push keys like Thelonious | |
The corporation pushing blood with the beans | |
I heard people moving up here for the love of the green | |
New homes, new stores, still a hood underneath | |
No good how we chilling in the gut of the beast | |
A national question, with no answer in the least | |
It's no resting ‘til the cancer meets defeat | |
(chorus) |
verse | |
Live from occupied Duwamish territory | |
Where Carlos Bulosan once lived to tell the story | |
Of the brain, sweat, and glory of mic checks and men | |
Who fight the destination we were destined to end | |
Left the writing on the walls in the halls of the Nippon Kan | |
Others transform, majority Decepticons | |
But my conception of the Walkman' s rotation, | |
Is you live in the upper left you' ve got to have patience | |
Cause ain' t no urban radio stations about to play us | |
Unless you sign the dotted and make your songs brainless | |
While you waitin' for the mention in the pages of " The Stranger" | |
You can find me in the basement makin' heaters for later | |
And yes, we all need a little paper to strive | |
But the monsters in your town will put a limp in your stride | |
I exhibit all the time like I' m pimpin' your ride | |
And we' ve been living in conditions we' re tired of | |
Come on and rise up | |
chorus | |
Two Scholars rock fresh, North by Northwest | |
And it' s still no rest ' cause we' re not finished yet | |
We' re broke, but not broken | |
Cold, but not frozen | |
Lost but not forgotten, we' re kickin' the doors open | |
Two Scholars rock fresh, North by Northwest | |
And it' s still no rest ' cause we' re not finished yet | |
We' re broke, but not broken | |
Cold, but not frozen | |
Movin' in slow motion, it' s that Northwest classic | |
verse | |
Nine eight doubleone eight, the alphabetically 2nd to last state changed in live version to 4th | |
Never finished in last place | |
Like the Mariners for 3 years straight | |
From prescriptions we administer the medicine | |
For people still afflicted with acute twoohsickness | |
We exist between the gold and the green | |
I paint the soul of the scene | |
Under towers of power, dodging the over Overfiend daily | |
Causing bones to decay, they say is so far away | |
Couldn' t possibly make it, I seen modesty fade | |
And awful lot of hate, but none of which was said to my face | |
I confide inside, my son, but with a fire made of purple | |
I' m a writer for the art, I keep it sharpened with rehearsal | |
The worst is when they mark us to target a market that we' re not even a part of | |
If your CD' s in Target it means you got distribution, but we still pushin' units | |
With our own two homegrown since youth | |
Thought you knew | |
chorus | |
verse | |
And they say desegregation was a big step forward | |
But integration only covered up a rotten core | |
The surface might' ve changed but the cauldron is still hot | |
Now we more politically correct with less real talk | |
They say we liberal but literally not | |
When the cops bend us over while upholding the law | |
Despite the sight of coffee shops on every single block | |
Nearby its supply and demand for the rock | |
It' s two types of crack, one legal, one felonious | |
The lumpenprole push keys like Thelonious | |
The corporation pushing blood with the beans | |
I heard people moving up here for the love of the green | |
New homes, new stores, still a hood underneath | |
No good how we chilling in the gut of the beast | |
A national question, with no answer in the least | |
It' s no resting ' til the cancer meets defeat | |
chorus |
verse | |
Live from occupied Duwamish territory | |
Where Carlos Bulosan once lived to tell the story | |
Of the brain, sweat, and glory of mic checks and men | |
Who fight the destination we were destined to end | |
Left the writing on the walls in the halls of the Nippon Kan | |
Others transform, majority Decepticons | |
But my conception of the Walkman' s rotation, | |
Is you live in the upper left you' ve got to have patience | |
Cause ain' t no urban radio stations about to play us | |
Unless you sign the dotted and make your songs brainless | |
While you waitin' for the mention in the pages of " The Stranger" | |
You can find me in the basement makin' heaters for later | |
And yes, we all need a little paper to strive | |
But the monsters in your town will put a limp in your stride | |
I exhibit all the time like I' m pimpin' your ride | |
And we' ve been living in conditions we' re tired of | |
Come on and rise up | |
chorus | |
Two Scholars rock fresh, North by Northwest | |
And it' s still no rest ' cause we' re not finished yet | |
We' re broke, but not broken | |
Cold, but not frozen | |
Lost but not forgotten, we' re kickin' the doors open | |
Two Scholars rock fresh, North by Northwest | |
And it' s still no rest ' cause we' re not finished yet | |
We' re broke, but not broken | |
Cold, but not frozen | |
Movin' in slow motion, it' s that Northwest classic | |
verse | |
Nine eight doubleone eight, the alphabetically 2nd to last state changed in live version to 4th | |
Never finished in last place | |
Like the Mariners for 3 years straight | |
From prescriptions we administer the medicine | |
For people still afflicted with acute twoohsickness | |
We exist between the gold and the green | |
I paint the soul of the scene | |
Under towers of power, dodging the over Overfiend daily | |
Causing bones to decay, they say is so far away | |
Couldn' t possibly make it, I seen modesty fade | |
And awful lot of hate, but none of which was said to my face | |
I confide inside, my son, but with a fire made of purple | |
I' m a writer for the art, I keep it sharpened with rehearsal | |
The worst is when they mark us to target a market that we' re not even a part of | |
If your CD' s in Target it means you got distribution, but we still pushin' units | |
With our own two homegrown since youth | |
Thought you knew | |
chorus | |
verse | |
And they say desegregation was a big step forward | |
But integration only covered up a rotten core | |
The surface might' ve changed but the cauldron is still hot | |
Now we more politically correct with less real talk | |
They say we liberal but literally not | |
When the cops bend us over while upholding the law | |
Despite the sight of coffee shops on every single block | |
Nearby its supply and demand for the rock | |
It' s two types of crack, one legal, one felonious | |
The lumpenprole push keys like Thelonious | |
The corporation pushing blood with the beans | |
I heard people moving up here for the love of the green | |
New homes, new stores, still a hood underneath | |
No good how we chilling in the gut of the beast | |
A national question, with no answer in the least | |
It' s no resting ' til the cancer meets defeat | |
chorus |