Freewheelin 歌词
| 歌曲 | Freewheelin |
| 歌手 | Blue Scholars |
| 专辑 | Blue Scholars |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Geologic | |
| I draw words out of pens like swords out of sheathes | |
| Humidity intervene, now I'm high on God's speed | |
| Upon the mic, immobilizing globe trotting colonizers | |
| Stomping on the rights of the poor, | |
| The destitute I testify will rise in the matter of a lifetime | |
| So climb into the mind through the scale over spine | |
| When hips start slitherin' to bass line rhythm | |
| Make the wallflower blossom | |
| Make me feel anonymous and conscious at the same time | |
| I can't remain calm waiting for a beat or a nuclear bomb to drop | |
| So find us in a record shop with or without distribution | |
| independent from the bullshit of a major | |
| Remember Monday evening in the record stores at 12? | |
| Midnight to cop the new album off the shelf | |
| Either savin' up allowance or your minimum wage | |
| For eight dollars, one tape man, you listen for days | |
| I'm missin' the days, freewheelin' mean-muggin' rivals, | |
| For no good reason | |
| Just being adolescents and breathing, but we've been | |
| So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in | |
| I'm leavin' | |
| I'm leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem | |
| I'm leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin for days | |
| I'm leaving | |
| YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old | |
| Passin the torch like the mic that I hold | |
| Plowin' in the field allowin' little time to rest | |
| Fly by night daytime I'm chillin' in my nest | |
| Where memory is sendin' me | |
| An astral projection to way back then | |
| I'm chasin' Rakim through the speakers | |
| Reachin' for the makeshift microphone | |
| Mark'll make your mom bark "Turn down the radio," | |
| complainin about the cursewords | |
| Times absurd, the lines got blurred, another kid got served | |
| And the whole house party bore witness to the occasion | |
| Thus started growing my early reputation | |
| Early 90 second generation fat basses | |
| Used to get hip bruises breakin' in the basement | |
| Mixed tape makin' was an art that we've forsaken | |
| And the hardest thing to do was cue the tape | |
| I'm waiting on a Sunday night listening to nastiness, payin the dues | |
| When KEXP was KCMU, true, I'm missin' the days | |
| freewheelin' mean-muggin' rivals, | |
| For no good reason | |
| Just being adolescents and breathing, but we've been | |
| So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in | |
| I'm leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem | |
| I'm leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days | |
| I'm leaving | |
| AYE-YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old | |
| Passin the torch like the mic that I hold | |
| The horticulture's in the pipe | |
| So torch it with the light unfortunately | |
| it'll be gone, but not tonight (4x) | |
| I'm leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem | |
| I'm leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days | |
| I'm leaving | |
| AYE-YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old | |
| Passin' the torch like the mic that I hold |
| zuo qu : Geologic | |
| I draw words out of pens like swords out of sheathes | |
| Humidity intervene, now I' m high on God' s speed | |
| Upon the mic, immobilizing globe trotting colonizers | |
| Stomping on the rights of the poor, | |
| The destitute I testify will rise in the matter of a lifetime | |
| So climb into the mind through the scale over spine | |
| When hips start slitherin' to bass line rhythm | |
| Make the wallflower blossom | |
| Make me feel anonymous and conscious at the same time | |
| I can' t remain calm waiting for a beat or a nuclear bomb to drop | |
| So find us in a record shop with or without distribution | |
| independent from the bullshit of a major | |
| Remember Monday evening in the record stores at 12? | |
| Midnight to cop the new album off the shelf | |
| Either savin' up allowance or your minimum wage | |
| For eight dollars, one tape man, you listen for days | |
| I' m missin' the days, freewheelin' meanmuggin' rivals, | |
| For no good reason | |
| Just being adolescents and breathing, but we' ve been | |
| So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in | |
| I' m leavin' | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spraypainted dreams that ain' t what they seem | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin for days | |
| I' m leaving | |
| YO I' m going home to atone for abandonin my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I' ll toil till I' m old | |
| Passin the torch like the mic that I hold | |
| Plowin' in the field allowin' little time to rest | |
| Fly by night daytime I' m chillin' in my nest | |
| Where memory is sendin' me | |
| An astral projection to way back then | |
| I' m chasin' Rakim through the speakers | |
| Reachin' for the makeshift microphone | |
| Mark' ll make your mom bark " Turn down the radio," | |
| complainin about the cursewords | |
| Times absurd, the lines got blurred, another kid got served | |
| And the whole house party bore witness to the occasion | |
| Thus started growing my early reputation | |
| Early 90 second generation fat basses | |
| Used to get hip bruises breakin' in the basement | |
| Mixed tape makin' was an art that we' ve forsaken | |
| And the hardest thing to do was cue the tape | |
| I' m waiting on a Sunday night listening to nastiness, payin the dues | |
| When KEXP was KCMU, true, I' m missin' the days | |
| freewheelin' meanmuggin' rivals, | |
| For no good reason | |
| Just being adolescents and breathing, but we' ve been | |
| So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spraypainted dreams that ain' t what they seem | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days | |
| I' m leaving | |
| AYEYO I' m going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I' ll toil till I' m old | |
| Passin the torch like the mic that I hold | |
| The horticulture' s in the pipe | |
| So torch it with the light unfortunately | |
| it' ll be gone, but not tonight 4x | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spraypainted dreams that ain' t what they seem | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days | |
| I' m leaving | |
| AYEYO I' m going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I' ll toil till I' m old | |
| Passin' the torch like the mic that I hold |
| zuò qǔ : Geologic | |
| I draw words out of pens like swords out of sheathes | |
| Humidity intervene, now I' m high on God' s speed | |
| Upon the mic, immobilizing globe trotting colonizers | |
| Stomping on the rights of the poor, | |
| The destitute I testify will rise in the matter of a lifetime | |
| So climb into the mind through the scale over spine | |
| When hips start slitherin' to bass line rhythm | |
| Make the wallflower blossom | |
| Make me feel anonymous and conscious at the same time | |
| I can' t remain calm waiting for a beat or a nuclear bomb to drop | |
| So find us in a record shop with or without distribution | |
| independent from the bullshit of a major | |
| Remember Monday evening in the record stores at 12? | |
| Midnight to cop the new album off the shelf | |
| Either savin' up allowance or your minimum wage | |
| For eight dollars, one tape man, you listen for days | |
| I' m missin' the days, freewheelin' meanmuggin' rivals, | |
| For no good reason | |
| Just being adolescents and breathing, but we' ve been | |
| So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in | |
| I' m leavin' | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spraypainted dreams that ain' t what they seem | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin for days | |
| I' m leaving | |
| YO I' m going home to atone for abandonin my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I' ll toil till I' m old | |
| Passin the torch like the mic that I hold | |
| Plowin' in the field allowin' little time to rest | |
| Fly by night daytime I' m chillin' in my nest | |
| Where memory is sendin' me | |
| An astral projection to way back then | |
| I' m chasin' Rakim through the speakers | |
| Reachin' for the makeshift microphone | |
| Mark' ll make your mom bark " Turn down the radio," | |
| complainin about the cursewords | |
| Times absurd, the lines got blurred, another kid got served | |
| And the whole house party bore witness to the occasion | |
| Thus started growing my early reputation | |
| Early 90 second generation fat basses | |
| Used to get hip bruises breakin' in the basement | |
| Mixed tape makin' was an art that we' ve forsaken | |
| And the hardest thing to do was cue the tape | |
| I' m waiting on a Sunday night listening to nastiness, payin the dues | |
| When KEXP was KCMU, true, I' m missin' the days | |
| freewheelin' meanmuggin' rivals, | |
| For no good reason | |
| Just being adolescents and breathing, but we' ve been | |
| So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spraypainted dreams that ain' t what they seem | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days | |
| I' m leaving | |
| AYEYO I' m going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I' ll toil till I' m old | |
| Passin the torch like the mic that I hold | |
| The horticulture' s in the pipe | |
| So torch it with the light unfortunately | |
| it' ll be gone, but not tonight 4x | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To a place dominated by spraypainted dreams that ain' t what they seem | |
| I' m leaving | |
| To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days | |
| I' m leaving | |
| AYEYO I' m going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown | |
| From the soil of my soul that I' ll toil till I' m old | |
| Passin' the torch like the mic that I hold |
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