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busdriver - unsafe sextet - gilded hearts of booklovers lyrics

you get some tap shoes and sheet music with trombones
unsafe s-xtet, it’s unsafe s-xtet
you get some piccolos and fashionistas with jumpsuits
unsafe s-xtet, it’s unsafe s-xtet
i frown upon the meaning of blitzkrieg
when the sepdia tint bleeds out of your sleezy club striptease
you give the cheesy club chick feed
your reality tv stud misreads his scripted pig oinks
so i disjoint his measly thug prestige
when my wheezing lung is squeezed
out of the pitiful entrapments of an able bodied squatter
from the tenuous underpinning of a corroded mind
i can’t learn a thing
yet my creative furnishings are a body of water
so im a coffee potter
yes im a barista at starbucks
you can lessen my financial woes
just swipe your visa card once
buy this explosive whoopee cushion
my loathsome p-ssfooting should be put in
runs with a pizza parlor runts want of arcade tokens
join the styled fauna of the industry mixer and suffer mild trauma
i need a chemistry kit sir
and not to coddle pistol grips i only need one popsicle stick
for my boyz n the hood diorama
oh my band sucks sh-t
were not first on no bills
and eat birth control pills
and my fingertips look like crisp fried ends
looking at the negative balance on my account through a fish eyed lens
you get some tap shoes and snorkles and bandmates
and sheet music with trombones and handguns
we upstage the best yet and tongue bathe c-ssette decks
holding unpaid rent checks
you get some piccalos and cutlery and thermoses
and fashionistas with jumpsuits and congos
gilded hearts of booklovers
and you decided to write the hip hop version of karma sutra
after being fired from your job for uprocking to close the water cooler
in the regalia of a star pr-ck i measure our genitalia with a yardstick
and dethrone my third person drowning it in sea foam
and drink the blood from its wing nub dipping in it with cheese scone
exchanging pelvic thrusts while pulling the elephant tusk from my cheekbone
put my dirty feet in a pair of socks and my bird beak in a swear box
and unfasten my pants
insure that my mojo crash lands on your happenstance
youre a flash in the pan
quid pro quo with the newest thing to come out
with me its no go im a shooting range cut out
but my woodie’s blair underwooden, you should book me with wonder women
i ain’t go the suggested footwear but the kids leave the breakfast nook bare
when i prep fixins im hedging clipping their reading habits at the book fair
but im too pithy and far fetched to compete with your hickeyed guitar neck
i hear the political convictions of your depbut ep dwarf isclamfascism
great news! you get rave reviews 5 out of 5
but thisll leave your noodle full blown this year were touring funeral homes
and that self serving agenda will buckle under the weight of these lengthy diatribes
and you decided to write the hip hop version of karma sutra
after being fired from your job for uprocking to close the water cooler
oh your games so tough, it de magnetized my key card
its so hot and fresh, your merch booth needs a sneeze guard
and i fall off without a tug on the ripchord
i amount to fuzz of the mixboard
but how can i get my game re-charged, tell me
oh gilded hearts of booklovers
you dont have to be careful let your hinged airhole swing ajar
we have disemboldened the cookie cutters
who the f-ck do they think they are
oh compromised worldview
please dont mind me as i kindly scratch my scabs
our nerve endings curly q
when brushed up against the naps of flags
or that fascist vag. or that

- busdriver lyrics

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