The Music Scene

Duration

3:50

Genres

Alternative Hip-Hop

Description

Lyrics

“The Music Scene” Underground’s what the sound is-- Top floor only hungry for the money anymore Smashin’ in a flash went from a passion to a damn chore Wanna find me? I’ll be in the subway Like all damn day Just riding that third rail Rocket like Ishmael Breaking from the pack, no slack then I fishtail, So fast see, no one gonna pass me just playing Fam, damn, come catch me, can’t detach me hear a dope beat come running like lassie you the Great Gatsby? With your dreams receded and treated like it was a patsy (1:07) now a cold case Brace for a Statute of limitations Like a stick in the sludge You won’t budge and you calling it patience When I was young I could feel the sensations of what is love, what is hate, and what I thought of as fate. American dreams now that the hands on the clock spun, not what it seems all gleams in your eye have all since died I’ll chop the block until it’s petrified, to splinter such idol hands that bested nothing no one so low on the totem that no one showed him even me, the responsibility of being free. (1:35) A jungle is a desert that gets too much rain fall. I think my brain has got arthritis Man it’s just too painful Overkill swatting flies With a chainsaw Blame me for robbing Peter but don’t you blame Paul Life is Opportunity’s bitch that won’t call Potential is a four letter word that I slurred last night when holding a glass right to my lips rotten grape juice sips. Last thing I remembers running round from the block Saying imma tie one on with a Sauvignon Blanc in my hand Half dead rolling out of bed, shake the webs cobbed up. Fogging up of what you said last night with the pipe and the booze and the floozy Waxing poetic bout the random kinetic energy flowing through make you oh so woozy. walk twelve steps 13th is a doozy (doozy doozy doozy)… Life is a melody of ifs and when’s situation braking down foes and friends. Everything you say is gonna put you on the fence. when they’re cashing in your two cents blueprints of the new spits what I’m using. Hip hop fusion Cat nip for the cats with their hat split, Absent from a drum and a cracked whip. Alone I sit! In the valley of the belly of the beast-ling The Fleecing of America increase at least a piece since my last track release A mans table scraps is another mans feast Snippets of little tidbits and morsels I’m not a scavenger I’m just resourceful And I’ve got pours full of blood sweet and tears Through the years with a chest of drawers full Of everything I ever thought was ever beautiful---- (2:53)