| Now L. A. hip and N. Y. chic
|
| Been dancin' lately cheek to cheek
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| While Midwest good ole boys like me
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| Should all be playing catch-up, see
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| Subscribe to the Village Voice in throngs
|
| And guess who gigs at Madame Wong’s
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| Well drop your pens and pant designs
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| And drop six words in your open minds
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| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| To the Hollywood school
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| Teaching everything’s cool
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| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| To the Greenwich mockingbird
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| Who has gotta have the last word
|
| Got your head together now?
|
| Got a way that’s better now?
|
| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| (Say what, bad rap, uh huh)
|
| You save the whales
|
| You save the seals
|
| You save whatever’s cute and squeals
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| But you kill «that thing» that’s in the womb
|
| Would not want no baby boom
|
| Good, bad, laugh and scorn
|
| Blame yourself for kiddie porn
|
| Convenience is the law you keep
|
| And your compassion’s ankle deep
|
| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| Wrap it in a fine philosophy
|
| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| But your bottom line still says «me me me»
|
| Got your head together now?
|
| Got a way that’s better now?
|
| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| You’ll march if all the streets are full
|
| A two bit closet radical
|
| No time to check the end result
|
| Expedience is your catapult
|
| Convictions make your skin to crawl
|
| You act like you’re above it all
|
| You say faith is a crutch for a mind that’s closed
|
| You guzzle your crutch and shove it up your nose
|
| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| To my left wing band with their head in the sand
|
| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| To the «might makes right» playin' chicken (delight)
|
| Got your head together now?
|
| Got a way that’s better now?
|
| Who you tryin' to kid, kid?
|
| Can’t understand those Christians
|
| So you type us all in stereo
|
| They’re hypocrites
|
| They’re such a bore
|
| Well come on in
|
| There’s room for one more
|
| So now you’re mad
|
| Who is this guy
|
| To bake us all in one big pie?
|
| You think I care
|
| Forget it, hon
|
| You’ve just been shot
|
| With your own gun
|
| (Bad rap, uh huh)
|
| Sugar Hill’s gonna need a pill
|
| Grandmaster Flash gonna get a rash |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bad Rap (Who You Tryin To Kid, Kid?) , by - Steve Taylor. Song from the album The Best We Could Find, in the genre Поп