Lyrics Unemployed Black Astronaut - Busdriver

Unemployed Black Astronaut

I am the first black astronaut
To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
I am the first black astronaut
To walk the bare moon
(Quite possibly, one of the great all-time love tracks.)
It’s the resurgence of the happy black rappers
But our African medallions are handicap placards
I am alphabetized in the modernized retro
And my press photos are wallet sized.
My rent’s low
Why don’t you shape me?
I’m malleable flesh and putty
And a salad bowl with dill dressing
And assimilated into urban field testing
Dress and doggy are coveted by a sexy bunny
Afraid I’ll add her to my burlesque show
Who severed the ring finger of the lead singer and store a fresh bowl
Of the Bitches' Brew with bee stingers but I’m refreshed though
It’s home of the black speed reader
Perplexed or blurb stretched
Dude adjusted I am spacey but the burden is low
Which means I’m commonplace
Til the boy and me traveled the country in wooden spaceships
On the phone cussing at de-booking agents
I wield words that have come from the country with the underground who’s-who
But I feel like I’ve been sodomized with a billiards pool cue
I am the first black astronaut
To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
Pound my beliefs into the desired shape
And put them sound asleep in the fireplace
I am the first black astronaut
To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
Pound my beliefs into the desired shape
And put them sound asleep in the fireplace
It’s the return of the all-popular dope rappers
Who retreat to their holes in the sky, climbing up rope-ladders
And I will sell you a silver disc soaked in laughter
Cause you’ve been brainwashed.
Out of your ears leaks soap lather
Why don’t you deify me?
I’m Buckaroo Bonzai
Don’t know what to do, I’m the wrong guy
I touch crews like Krush Groove on DVD
And I kinda started doing songs with CVE
But now you’re like (Chillin' Villain who? Project what?)
Persona Non Grata with the wrist-band in front of Popsicle stick man
He’s a wall of hot lava.
Drip crayon on your clipped glands
So I found the top dollar.
Twist strands to enrich fans
But there’s not a lot of offers.
They give brands to kitsch bands
I water lawns for the ADD D&D role-players
And we got along, so we formed a commonwealth
And you hear me do random sightings and file-sharing
And you tell me that song writing’s like child bearing
No it’s not, it’s self indulgence
Elfen culprits watch their egos melt in charcoal pits
I am the first black astronaut
To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
Pound my beliefs into the desired shape
And put them sound asleep in the fireplace
I am the first black astronaut
To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
Pound my beliefs into the desired shape
And put them sound asleep in the fireplace
Oh my.
Sorry I left my acceptance speech in the back of the private car
And I re-wrote the Hollywood ending flux the motion-picture screen
Made it so the black guy doesn’t die by the opening scene
Oh my.
Sorry I left my acceptance speech in the back of the private car
When I re-wrote the Hollywood ending flux the motion-picture screen
Made it so the black guy doesn’t die by the opening scene
Yeah!
This is the climb of the cathartic writer
That labels couldn’t market they lifer
I’ve been out-sold and my styles are old and lame
I’ll spark a lighter to the carpet fiber cause I’m not a household name
I’m a tax write-off, I signed a deal with no exit clause
My label’s like Ms. Santa Clause on menopause, so I’m banging on padded walls
So I’m trying to make hits, but I keep hitting pop flys
I don’t eat out any more, I thaw chicken pot pies
But I used to be in the list of the top five
Fresh hip-hop guys
I am the first black astronaut
To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
Pound my beliefs into the desired shape
And put them sound asleep in the fireplace
I am the first black astronaut
To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon