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busdriver – note boom lyrics

i was in a hip hop hair band, when i was watching ‘yo, mtv raps’
then i went to this cv shack… and i burned my unpublished books
and invented my young rugged looks, wrote a verse holding your cd rack
when i became a star, now girls show me their bikini wax
and shower me in v-g-n-l secretions for no rational reason
whatever happened to the undying purist’s fuel? the young wistful rants?
the rap quiz bowl champ? now i go to afterparties where girls have
good sn-tch and nipple clamps
i’m supposed to be protesting at a missile plant
i’m supposed to be casting an unpopular vote
instead of basking in a sauna, in the water in a swim trunk
there’s a skin chunk on my salad fork
there’s an inconsistancy in my valid retort
you can dig in an underground t-shirt bin, but you’re just
on the outside looking in
so i poured formaldehyde under your cooking skin
because i’m from l.a., which means i’m a style sn-b
i can’t imagine that there’s any rapper who can put me out of a job
because while they were reading ‘calvin and hobbes’ we filled [? ]
with lyrics and loops
but i’m not from your favorite group, put up your cypher circle’s sacred hoop
because i’m a hoola-hooper, bazooka-shooter, new recruiter
of a daisy-dukes-wearing lone groupie
astroglide and [? ] play a big part in my home movies
because i’m a scene sl-t, you facetious f-cks, if y’all don’t make
some noise i’ll be applying for employment at pizza hut
let’s be level-headed, you can probably see through me
i’m the white man’s character’s n-gg-r friend in the ethnocentric teen movie
well? shut your mouth? just pay him for the green smoothie

hold on- i’m still important. i was the clumsy co-author
of your celebrated mantra for your movement
then my felt pen turned into a cold spoon, and i want my love back
so i await a note boom

want to see my live performance? no!
how about a [? ] verse? no!
want an unedited television appearance? no!
want to hear some exclusive tracks? no!

d-mn, tough crowd. i thought they would always
touch clouds when i bust styles, but what now?

what kind of name is busdriver? is it just a wack allegory?
and it can’t be justified by any background story?
i heard he sucks live. only appeals to hipsters who
dress like russian spies, who are painfully cool and have b-tton-eyes
a fan will squeeze a pint of fresh juice, and it’ll discompose a recluse
but no childhood s-x abuse can explain my terrible habits
that is why single is my marital status
that is why i’ll happily take cash advances from charitable half-wits
and being that i’m from the project blowed i’m constantly probed
by the weak and the dull
with poor and boring things asked, i’ll put a breech in the hole
of their exploratory sp-ce craft with oratory weight m-ss, bleach for skulls
because recent polls… a black rapper’s viewed as a voyeuristic dunce
who doesn’t care about the b-boyer’s intrinsic hunch
and now indie music is instant lunch, at industry parties i p-ss in the punch
and won’t take a business card, i have a disregard for life
i’m not on a mission to mars or leave satellite-dish shards in the night

hold on- i’m still important. i was the clumsy co-author
of your celebrated mantra for your movement
then my felt pen turned into a cold spoon, and i want my love back
so i await a note boom

want to see my live performance? no!
how about a [? ] verse? no!
want an unedited television appearance? no!
want to hear some exclusive tracks? no!

d-mn, tough crowd. i thought they would always
touch clouds when i bust styles, but what now?

i thought they would always go buck wild, but now
they want a n-gg- with a plucked brow
wow… tough crowd… the room is f-cking loud

- busdriver lyrics

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