Lyrics Hipsta - Timmy Trumpet, Chardy, The Bondi Hipsters

Hipsta

Rock up at a cafe that’s all the rage.
Stare at the waiter, till we get a menu.
I like what’s on the page.
Not a bad vibe.
Not a bad venue.
Tell me bout your bovine.
What do they eat?
What’s the river they drink from?
And tell me bout your coffee beans.
Are they Arabican, Columbian, or Mandheling Lintong?
Have you got anything gluten free?
I’m no celiac, but it disagrees with me.
Mmmm, and I don’t like toxins either —
Should I cleanse my liver with a ginger tea?
I think we’ll order, the tap water,
The wifi password and hang for a bit.
Hey brah what’s the track that’s playing?
This ain’t no hipster shit.
Have you got anything gluten free?
Sorry 'bout that.
Don’t you know what gluten free?
This ain’t no hipster shit.
Did I threw you that I’m gluten free?
Sorry 'bout that.
What about ginger tea?
This ain’t no hipster shit.
I’m so busy, life’s a chore.
Every Saturday I work in a retail store.
Keeping busy on a casual shift.
Casually chilling, not giving a shit.
Hanging at the counter, trawling Tinder,
Trying to find a random, I can finger.
Have a green smoothie, cause I’m vegan.
Mmmm, tastes like dragon semen.
Here comes the boss, to check the status.
Gotta look busy.
Move the hangers.
Having to make career compromises.
Like;
«hey brah, you need a hand with sizes?»
Getting ready.
Night in the city.
Order a bag and some disco biccies.
Shooting up bath salts — That was ace!
Does anyone feel like eating their own face?!
Step out the uber, party time.
Polish off my red wine.
Stroll up, to the front of the line,
The door-guy knows me, I’m here all the time.
Doesn’t let us in. We’re not on the list,
Gotta line up with the povo kids.
Honestly who do I have to fist,
For some cunt to put my name on this list?
Dom I wish we never came!
I hate this club, this night’s so lame!
Sorry, what?
I can not understand a single word you’re saying!
I think my pingers' kicking in!
This DJ’s fucking killing it!
Hey DJ what’s this track you’re playing?
This ain’t no hipster shit.
Have you got anything gluten free?
Sorry 'bout that.
Don’t you know what gluten free?
This ain’t no hipster shit.
Did I threw you that I’m gluten free?
Sorry 'bout that.
This ain’t no hipster shit.
«Is this the first time you’ve seen him live?»
«No brah.
Earlier this year I saw him play this like super secret underground
set at a no-name pop-up venue in the city.»
«Cool.
Yeah did I ever tell you about that time a few years ago I was hanging
out with Gollum and we saw him spinning records in the back of a taco truck in
downtown LA.»
«No, but that sounds rad man… I remember back in 2003 me and these random
council worker lollypop guys dumped a bunch of pingers and saw him play,
at this underground rave in a storm water drain.»
«Oh yeah?
Well this one time in like 1994 when I was in my first year of high
school, I walked into 7/11 and opened up the ice cream freezer and there he was
just dropping some mad beats for all the Bubble-O Bills, and the Cornetto’s
were all pissed off because I left the freezer open too long and they started
to melt.»
«Cool man, I remember when I was just born back in like 1982 my mum took me to
the doctors for a check up, and the doctor played me this ultrasound where you
could hear him fist pumping inside his mother’s womb, so yeah.
Pretty
underground.»