Lyrics Post Apocalyptic Rap Blues - Busdriver

Post Apocalyptic Rap Blues

I know you got em, I got em too
I got them through the night
Well comes a Blowed fanclub
Asking me all kinds of outlandish questions
Like if I heard that tape of theirs
To be quite honest, I haven’t so I just give them blank stares
But one said, «you know busdriver, I think you’re an asshole
And your shit’s so weak that it makes my tummy hurt
And when I heard the sound, I didn’t feel like I got my money’s worth
I think I can serve you right where you stand, you’re dead»
Hell man, you didn’t harm a hair strand on my head
Cause I got them whack rapper blues
I got them whack rapper blues
And I don’t know where they came from, I don’t know you
Didn’t know me, doing that punk thing by cd
Via
Sold of on the Project Blowed
cool with Southern Cal
So buy my shirt, don’t be stubborn pal
Get on my shit, all of it
Surprise yourself
Yeah
I’ve got them underground hip-hop blues, Yeah
Something like that
All my money in the world are some pennies in a dresser drawer
So I made my way to the indy mega store
And I ain’t taking no excuses a CD buyer has to offer
Cause I’d have made my payments on my TV, dryer and washer
He looked me in the eye and said «I can’t buy it this week»
I said «what the fuck"and a high pitched shriek
I said „Are you friends with or do you know Driver?“
He said I don’t care he can hang himself from a blow dryer»
I got those
I got those CD on consignment blues, Yeah
And they’re charging me every dirty thing that I believe
And they haven’t paid me, it’s certainly my big pet peeve
Check it out
Now they call me Driver
But promoters call me pond scum
They say «You know you’re pretty dope man
But you ain’t going nowhere in the long run»
Project Blowed was vocoded on the back of a cardboard boxcar menu
No, my car door is not locked
I invite you inside of my microsmic bubble
I’ve taken the advice of a project
Brought into the league of legends but I’m still here
With those janky-ass promoters blues (janky-ass promoters)
And when I perform, I stage my death
To collect my money, so that I can pay my rent
I got some early hip-hop blues
I’m performing in the L ring
I’m performing in your girl’s house
I’ll be performing in your town soon
What was that?
Hi, may I take your order?
Yes, um, well actually
I would like a rubber shoe, branded with a number 2
You want number 2?
Actually, give me number 25
Excuse me?
You know what, it was a beautiful day