| Smooth to the ooze came Butter
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| Try to gank my style and I’ll hip you to the heater
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| At the speed of bop grew the hard rock
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| You can ask my dads Chairman Mao comrades
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| Squattin' at they pads
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| Diggin' on the jazz that’s the half of it
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| Uncle Sam showed us all his space we refuted it
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| Told him that ghetto is the aim, let go of my brain
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| Then we changed your boogie cause your boogie had to change
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| Caught a fat chat with a cat where I’m from
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| Flipping mad tracks on a love child Nickel Bag
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| Ah Mecca much jive and a jazz touch
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| With a straight no chase, a Dig Plan erase
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| Snatch an acid insect changed her dialect
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| Mr. Doodlebug come tight with a ticket
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| Said we couldn’t drip it
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| Came in and we kicked it with a glass of water on the rocks
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| Nip it
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| Jazz, in the last 5 years has progressed in its fits
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| And starts of sudden discoveries and
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| Startled reactions. |
| New principles, new sounds
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| New rhythms and harmonies have been advanced with unusual frequency
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| Not surprisingly, many of the younger musicians have been quietly digesting
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| This information almost as quiuckly as it has appeared
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| As a result, they’ve acquired a degree of
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| Musical sophistication which supersedes many of the previous standards of
|
| excellence
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| So it’s no longer especially relevant to ask the young saxophone player
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| For example, to demonstrate his ability by running through all the Charlie
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| Parker licks
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| Come little hoods peep out the eyelids
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| Stash a fat gat cause the loops let you dig
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| With a Bloom Swoon and a Full Moon
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| Mecca Bug no fake takes we let alone baits
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| Pitchin' up your cakes might cause a horn rush but then a bass flush
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| Meta more emphasis as I trip this Butter bug pour it out the mouth
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| O.K. |
| floater to the order don’t we wreck before we split
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| From the chaos came the fattest little shit
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| By the soak of it at the point of hammer click
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| You could either read a little Marx or hang with Spiddyocks
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| When the bass faces fix the deepest cuts they’re the sickest
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| Then we just make you think you boomed with a quickness
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| This is what’s the haps when I go to do my smack
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| Cause the word got around about three cool cats |