| Yo, I always hit the tape with the rough road styles
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| You heard the psychdelic and ya came from miles
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| Keep my rhymes thick like a Guinness brew
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| So you could call me black and tan when I’m a wreckin’a crew
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| I’m like Bill Lee writing when he’s in Tangiers
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| And now I’m on a soul safari with my Beatnik peers
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| Analogue reel and a little distortion
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| Smokin’on somethin’s’you could say I’m scorchin'
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| I never been the type to brag, but beware
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| I’ll make a man burn his draft card like it was hair
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| Send ya up the river like you lookin’for Kurtz
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| I got the mugwump jism up in every verse
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| Bug powder dust an’mugwump jism
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| The wild boys runnin''round Interzone trippin'
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| Letter to control about the Big Brother
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| Try like hard to not blow my cover
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| I always hit the apple when I’m going to shoot
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| So you can call me William Tell or Agent Cooper to boot
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| Mr. Mojo Risin’on the case again
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| So tell your mother and your sister and your sister’s friends
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| Like an exterminator running low on dust
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| I’m bug powder itchin’and it can’t be trust
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| Interzone trippin’and I’m off to Annexia
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| I gotta get a typewriter that’s sexier
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| My name is Justin and that’s all that’s it And I’ll be spittin’rhymes wicked like it ain’t for this shit
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| Houses of the Holy like Jimmy Page
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| But the song remains the same so I’m stuck in a rage
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| Just like Jane when she’s going to Spain
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| I think I’m going away tomorrow, just a fool in the rain
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| Light up the candles and bless the room
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| I’m paranoid, snow blind, just a black meat fool
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| Bug powder dust an’mugwump jism
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| The wild boys runnin''round Interzone trippin'
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| Letter to control about the Big Brother
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| Try like hard to not blow my cover
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| Never been a fake and I’m never phony
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| I got more flavour than the packet in macaroni
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| Rock drippin’from my every vowel
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| I’ve got the soul of the sixties like Ginsberg’s Howl
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| Shootin’mad ball and I’m always jukin'
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| Take you to the hole and I’m surely hoopin'
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| Top of the pops like the Lulu’s show
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| I’ll take a walk on Abbey Road with my shoes off, so I got a splinter though, damn, you know man it hurt
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| I got a Vegemite sandwich from Men at Work
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| I keep minds in line, but time sublimes,
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| So when you search you find something like a gold mine
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| A psychadelic meanderings in the poem
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| I got a patter, patter any place that I roam
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| Waiting for the sun on a Spanish caravan
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| Solar eclipse and I’m feeling like starin’man
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| Bug powder dust an’mugwump jism
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| The wild boys runnin''round Interzone trippin'
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| Letter to control about the Big Brother
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| Try like hard to not blow my cover
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| Who’s that man in the windowpane
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| Got somethin’on his tongue and it’s startin’to stain
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| Sho’nuff equip so wop n’get down
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| Step up on my ladder and you’ll get beat down
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| Hash bar style so I’m singin’day glow
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| Wakin’up the dead like Serpent and the Rainbow
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| Jeff Spicoli roll me another hay
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| The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh with Dr. J Shockin’your ass like a faulty vibrator
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| Hear me now, but you’ll probably get the vibe later
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| Who knows where the wicked wind blows
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| Que sera sera just leave it alone
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| Great Space Coaster toast up the town
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| Makin’midgets with my man Dr. Shrinker
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| Pass the hookah, throw down the pillows
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| Cloth on the ceiling, blow rings that billows
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| Kick off the shoes and relax your feet
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| Now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat
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| Bug powder dust an’mugwump jism
|
| The wild boys runnin''round Interzone trippin'
|
| Letter to control about the Big Brother
|
| Try like hard to not blow my cover
|
| Bug powder dust an’mugwump jism
|
| The wild boys runnin''round Interzone trippin'
|
| Letter to control about the Big Brother
|
| Try like hard to not blow my cover |