Lyrics Heathens - Jehst, Bastien Keb

Heathens

Still rock the Nuke Proof
I keep on rockin' in the free world
Doot-doola-doot-doo
It’s Feeding Time at the Zoo II
Q-Tip, the Last Zulu
I brought the Tribe through
Speak the truth like my hand’s on the Bible
Doing this 'til the Earth turn into a fireball
Clever words to incite a riot
But the crowd never heard—'cos the mic too quiet
They’ll probably turn it up for the headliner
Spread the butter
Drink a toast to the breadliner
The Umpire, I watch the game from a distance
The first one you wanna blame for all th wrong decisions
Became acquaintd with the concept of optimism
But soon forgot the wisdom
Because I didn’t have a pot to piss in
Or a window to throw it out of
A dead end street
If you figured you know about us
Until ends meet
The possibilities are boundless
Opportunities are rare
And the dice rolls without us
These slum lords must have thought we was born yesterday
These young boys must have thought we got nothing left to say
And all these non-believers who said Jesus couldn’t levitate
And all these other heathens
Tailor-made rhyme style
Wake 'n' bake lifestyle
Hood chicks look like Lady Pink in Wild Style
Avocado
Got the Charlie Brown profile
Smoke the Bob Marley 'til I start to sound docile
And forget where my keys at
Quick with the tree strapped
Quit, then I relapse
Like…
'Ah, shit!
Where the weed at?!'
Next episode
He’s back with the recap
Like Our Graham with the quick reminder
Lit the fire, got
Busy on the synthesiser
They always said he was the sickest rhymer
'Til he shaved his head
Like a Third Reich sympathiser
But he think like Malcolm X
Got the finished mixes
But he didn’t drop the album yet
The outcome
Of the numbers wasn’t adding up
Feeling like he had enough
Wanna duck to Magaluf
Lit a spliff bigger than a woolly mammoth tusk
I wonder why it seem like everybody mad at us
He might lose his mind and let the 'matic bust
Take it easy
Ken Kesey on the Magic Bus
With a bag of dust
To take the pain away
The dragon huff and he puff
And spit the flame again
I wrote this
On the front porch
On a rainy day
These slum lords must have thought we was born yesterday
These young boys must have thought we got nothing left to say
And all these non-believers who said Jesus couldn’t levitate
These slum lords must have thought we was born yesterday
These young boys must have thought we got nothing left to say
And all these non-believers who said Jesus couldn’t levitate
And all these other heathens