Post by billypilgrim on Jun 24, 2014 12:30:37 GMT -5
You ain't got no kind of feeling inside I got something that'll sho nuff set yo' stuff on fire You refuse to put anything before your pride What I got will knock your pride aside
Tell me something good Tell me that you love me, yeah Tell me something good Tell me that you like it, yeah
Got no time is what you're known to say (Got no time, no, got no time) I'll make you wish there was 48 hours to each day Your problem is you ain't been loved like you should What I got to give will sho nuff do you good
I came as ice, I came as a whore I came as advice that came too short I came as gold, I came as crap I came clean and I came as a Rat It takes a long time, but God dies too But not before he'll stick it to you Well I don't know, but I been told You never die and you never grow old
Post by billypilgrim on Nov 20, 2014 13:21:33 GMT -5
He was sitting in the lounge of the Empire Hotel He was drinking for diversion, he was thinking for himself A little money riding on the Maple Leafs Along comes a lady in lacy sleeves She says, let me sit down, you know drinking alone's a shame, it's a shame, it's a crying shame Look at those jokers glued to that damn hockey game Hey honey, you've got lots of cash Bring us down a bottle and we'll have some laughs Gin's what I'm drinking, I was raised on robbery
I'm a pretty good cook, sitting on my groceries Come up to my kitchen, I'll show you my best recipe I try and I try but I can't save a cent I'm up after midnight cooking, trying to make my rent I'm rough but I'm pleasing, I was raised on robbery
We had a little money once, they were pushing through a four lane highway Government gave us three thousand dollars, you should have seen it fly away First he bought a '57 Biscayne, he put it in the ditch He drunk up all the rest, that son of a bitch His blood's bad whiskey, I was raised on robbery
You know you ain't bad looking, I like the way you hold your drinks Come home with me honey, I ain't asking for no full-length mink Hey, where you going, don't go yet Your glass ain't empty and we just met You're mean when you're loaded, I was raised on robbery
Post by billypilgrim on Nov 25, 2014 16:20:02 GMT -5
Up in Syracuse I was once falsely accused But I'm not here to hurt you I'm here to steal your virtue Down in Bridgeport The woman will kill you for sport But in Worcester, Massachusetts They just love my sort The women in Poughkeepsie Take their clothes off when they're tipsy But I hear in Ypsilanti They don't wear any panties... Once they gargle with the finest champagne They hitch up their skirts and exclaim It's not very far, Sugar It's not very far, Sugar It's not very far from Sulphur to Sugarcane
Post by Raymond Boombox on Feb 22, 2015 11:47:59 GMT -5
The wall on which the prophets wrote Is cracking at the seams Upon the instruments of death The sunlight brightly gleams When every man is torn apart With nightmares and with dreams, Will no one lay the laurel wreath As silence drowns the screams
Confusion will be my epitaph As I crawl a cracked and broken path If we make it we can all sit back and laugh, But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying, Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
Between the iron gates of fate, The seeds of time were sown, And watered by the deeds of those Who know and who are known; Knowledge is a deadly friend If no one sets the rules The fate of all mankind I see Is in the hands of fools
Confusion will be my epitaph As I crawl a cracked and broken path If we make it we can all sit back and laugh, But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying, Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
And if I made a fool, if I made a fool, if I made a fool On the road, there's always this And if I'm sewn into submission I can still come home to this
And with a face like a dad and a laughable stand You can sleep on the plane or review what you said When you're drunk and the kids leave impossible tasks You think over and over, "hey, I'm finally dead."
Oh, if the trip and the plan come apart in your hand Tou look contorted on yourself your ridiculous prop You forgot what you meant when you read what you said And you always knew you were tired, but then Where are your friends tonight?
Post by Redman's Meth on May 1, 2015 0:43:05 GMT -5
This is not the first time I came to the planet But every time I come, only a few could understand it I came as Isis, my words they tried to ban it I came as Moses, they couldn't follow my commandments I came as Solomon, to a people that was lost I came as Jesus, but they nailed me to a cross I came as Harriet Tubman, I put the truth to Sojourner Other times, I had to come as Nat Turner They tried to burn me, lynch me and starve me So I had to come back as Marcus Garvey, Bob Marley They tried to harm me, I used to be Malcolm X Now I'm on the planet as the one called KRS
Kickin' the metaphysical, spiritual, tryin' to like Get with you, showin' you, you are invincible The Black Panther is the black answer for real In my spiritual form, I turn into Bobby Seale On the wheels of steel, my spirit flies away And enters into Kwame Ture
- KRS-One, 2nd Verse of Ah Yeah from his self-titled album.
1/30: Jack White and Run The Jewels 3/22: Bjork 4/6: Mumford & Sons 4/10: Sufjan Stevens 4/15: Neutral Milk Hotel 6/5-7: Gentlemen of the Road 6/11-14: Bonnaroo 8/29: RL Grime/Chance the Rapper 9/26-27: Landmark Music Festival 10/5: Tame Impala 10/22: Chance the Rapper
Post by FuzzyWarbles on May 17, 2015 12:47:53 GMT -5
In a world where we all circle the fiery sun / With a need for love / What have we become? / Tragedy flows unbound and there's no place to run / Till it's done / Questions that call to us, we all reflect upon: / Where do we belong? Where do we come from? Questions that call to us we reflect upon / Till it's done
Carbon pollution is heating up the air / Do we really know? Do we even care? / Acid rain dripping on our trees and in our hair / Are you there? / Clock ticking backwards on things we've already built / Sons and fathers die, daughters killed / Question ain't do we have resources to build / Do we have the will?
Perilous dissidence evening up the score / Do we even know what we're fighting for? / Destinies crippled and thrown about on the floor / When we're waging war / Questions that call to us, we all reflect upon: / Where do we belong? Where do we come from? / Questions that call to us, we all reflect upon / Till it's done
What you got back home, little sister, to play your fuzzy warbles on? I bet you got little save pitiful, portable picnic players. Come with uncle and hear all proper! Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones. You are invited.