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I am the first black astronaut |
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To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon |
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I am the first black astronaut |
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To walk the bare moon... (Or possibly, one of the great all-time bus-drivers.) |
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It's the resurgence of the happy black rappers |
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But our African medallions are handicap placards. |
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I am alphabetized in the "modernized retro" |
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And my press photos are wallet sized. My rent's low. |
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Why don't you shape me? I'm malleable flesh and putty |
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and a salad bowl with ??? dressing |
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and assimilated into urban fuel testing |
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Dress and doggy are coveted by a sexy bunny |
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afraid I'll add her to my burlesque show. |
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Who's slipping the ring finger of the lead singer ??? fresh bowl. |
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All the bitches rule with bee stingers but I'm refreshed though. |
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It's home of the black speed reader. |
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Perplexed or blurb stretched |
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Dude suggests that I'm spacy but the bird's nest is low. |
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Which means I'm commonplace. |
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Til the boy and me traveled the country in wooden spaceships |
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On the phone cursing at de-booking agents. |
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I wield words and pilfer the country with the underground who's-who |
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But I feel like I've been sodomized with a billiards pool cue. |
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I am the first black astronaut |
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To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon. |
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Pound my beliefs into the desired shape |
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And put them sound asleep in the fireplace. |
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I am the first black astronaut |
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To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon. |
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Pound my beliefs into the desired shape |
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And put them sound asleep in the fireplace. |
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It's the return of the all popular dope rappers |
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Who retreat through holes in the sky, climbing up rope-ladders |
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And I will sell you a silver disc soaked in laughter, |
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Cause you've been brainwashed. Out of your ears leaks soap lather |
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Why don't you deify me? I'm Buckaroo Banzai. |
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Don't know what to do, I'm the wrong guy. |
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I touch crews like Krush Groove on DVD |
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And I kinda started doing songs with CVE? |
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But now you're like (Chillin' Villain who? Project what?) |
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Persona Non Grata with the wrist-band in front of Popsicle stick man. |
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He's a wall of hot lava. Drip crayons on your clipped glands. |
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So I found the top dollar. Twist trends to enrich fans. |
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But there's not a lotta offers that give grants to kitsch bands. |
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And I water lawns for the ADD D&D role-players |
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And we got along, so we formed a commonwealth |
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And you hear me through random sightings and file-sharing |
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And you tell me that song writing's like child bearing |
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No it's not, it's self indulgence |
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Elven culprits watch their egos melt in charcoal pits. |
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I am the first black astronaut |
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To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon. |
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Pound my beliefs into the desired shape |
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And put them sound asleep in the fireplace. |
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I am the first black astronaut |
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To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon. |
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Pound my beliefs into the desired shape |
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And put them sound asleep in the fireplace. |
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Oh my. Sorry I left my acceptance speech in the back of the private car |
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And I re-wrote the Hollywood ending, fluxed the motion-picture screen |
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Made it so the black guy doesn't die by the opening scene. |
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Oh my. Sorry I left my acceptance speech in the back of the private car |
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And I re-wrote the Hollywood ending, fluxed the motion-picture screen |
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Made it so the black guy doesn't die by the opening scene. |
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Yeah! This is the climate of cathartic writer |
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That enables whos-who in the market they lifer. |
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I've been out-sold and my styles are old and lame |
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I'll spark a lighter to the carpet fiber 'cause I'm not a household name. |
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I'm a tax write-off, I signed a deal with no exit clause. |
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My label's like Ms. Santa Clause on menopause, so I'm banging on padded walls. |
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So I'm trying to make hits, but I keep hitting pop flies |
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I don't eat out any more, I'm thawing chicken pot pies |
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But I used to be in the list of the top five |
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Fresh hip-hop guys. |
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I am the first black astronaut |
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To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon. |
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Pound my beliefs into the desired shape |
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And put them sound asleep in the fireplace. |
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I am the first black astronaut |
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To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon. |
