[00:00.00] 作曲 : Geologic
[00:10.11]I draw words out of pens like swords out of sheathes
[00:13.08]Humidity intervene, now I'm high on God's speed
[00:15.48]Upon the mic, immobilizing globe trotting colonizers
[00:18.51]Stomping on the rights of the poor,
[00:20.25]The destitute I testify will rise in the matter of a lifetime
[00:23.40]So climb into the mind through the scale over spine
[00:26.01]When hips start slitherin' to bass line rhythm
[00:28.53]Make the wallflower blossom
[00:30.15]Make me feel anonymous and conscious at the same time
[00:32.97]I can't remain calm waiting for a beat or a nuclear bomb to drop
[00:36.69]So find us in a record shop with or without distribution
[00:39.72]independent from the ******** of a major
[00:41.76]Remember Monday evening in the record stores at 12?
[00:44.49]Midnight to cop the new album off the shelf
[00:46.89]Either savin' up allowance or your minimum wage
[00:49.32]For eight dollars, one tape man, you listen for days
[00:51.96]I'm missin' the days, freewheelin' mean-muggin' rivals,
[00:54.78]For no good reason
[00:55.95]Just being adolescents and breathing, but we've been
[00:58.83]So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in
[01:02.04]I'm leavin'
[01:02.58]I'm leaving
[01:03.75]To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem
[01:09.03]I'm leaving
[01:09.24]To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin for days
[01:13.14]I'm leaving
[01:13.41]YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin my native tongue grown
[01:18.18]From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old
[01:21.09]Passin the torch like the mic that I hold
[01:23.79]Plowin' in the field allowin' little time to rest
[01:26.19]Fly by night daytime I'm chillin' in my nest
[01:28.59]Where memory is sendin' me
[01:30.18]An astral projection to way back then
[01:32.70]I'm chasin' Rakim through the speakers
[01:34.74]Reachin' for the makeshift microphone
[01:36.78]Mark'll make your mom bark "Turn down the radio,"
[01:39.24]complainin about the cursewords
[01:40.71]Times absurd, the lines got blurred, another kid got served
[01:44.37]And the whole house party bore witness to the occasion
[01:47.16]Thus started growing my early reputation
[01:49.86]Early 90 second generation fat basses
[01:52.38]Used to get hip bruises breakin' in the basement
[01:55.02]Mixed tape makin' was an art that we've forsaken
[01:57.42]And the hardest thing to do was cue the tape
[01:59.49]I'm waiting on a Sunday night listening to nastiness, payin the dues
[02:03.12]When KEXP was KCMU, true, I'm missin' the days
[02:06.54]freewheelin' mean-muggin' rivals,
[02:08.55]For no good reason
[02:09.75]Just being adolescents and breathing, but we've been
[02:12.60]So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in
[02:17.01]I'm leaving
[02:17.22]To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem
[02:22.20]I'm leaving
[02:22.41]To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days
[02:26.34]I'm leaving
[02:26.55]AYE-YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown
[02:31.29]From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old
[02:34.23]Passin the torch like the mic that I hold
[02:36.54]The horticulture's in the pipe
[02:37.95]So torch it with the light unfortunately
[02:40.17]it'll be gone, but not tonight (4x)
[02:58.77]I'm leaving
[02:58.98]To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem
[03:02.79]I'm leaving
[03:04.02]To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days
[03:08.67]I'm leaving
[03:09.03]AYE-YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown
[03:13.08]From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old
[03:16.02]Passin' the torch like the mic that I hold

作曲 : Geologic
I draw words out of pens like swords out of sheathes
Humidity intervene, now I'm high on God's speed
Upon the mic, immobilizing globe trotting colonizers
Stomping on the rights of the poor,
The destitute I testify will rise in the matter of a lifetime
So climb into the mind through the scale over spine
When hips start slitherin' to bass line rhythm
Make the wallflower blossom
Make me feel anonymous and conscious at the same time
I can't remain calm waiting for a beat or a nuclear bomb to drop
So find us in a record shop with or without distribution
independent from the ******** of a major
Remember Monday evening in the record stores at 12?
Midnight to cop the new album off the shelf
Either savin' up allowance or your minimum wage
For eight dollars, one tape man, you listen for days
I'm missin' the days, freewheelin' mean-muggin' rivals,
For no good reason
Just being adolescents and breathing, but we've been
So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in
I'm leavin'
I'm leaving
To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem
I'm leaving
To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin for days
I'm leaving
YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin my native tongue grown
From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old
Passin the torch like the mic that I hold
Plowin' in the field allowin' little time to rest
Fly by night daytime I'm chillin' in my nest
Where memory is sendin' me
An astral projection to way back then
I'm chasin' Rakim through the speakers
Reachin' for the makeshift microphone
Mark'll make your mom bark "Turn down the radio,"
complainin about the cursewords
Times absurd, the lines got blurred, another kid got served
And the whole house party bore witness to the occasion
Thus started growing my early reputation
Early 90 second generation fat basses
Used to get hip bruises breakin' in the basement
Mixed tape makin' was an art that we've forsaken
And the hardest thing to do was cue the tape
I'm waiting on a Sunday night listening to nastiness, payin the dues
When KEXP was KCMU, true, I'm missin' the days
freewheelin' mean-muggin' rivals,
For no good reason
Just being adolescents and breathing, but we've been
So far from Eden that this paradise is hard to believe in
I'm leaving
To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem
I'm leaving
To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days
I'm leaving
AYE-YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown
From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old
Passin the torch like the mic that I hold
The horticulture's in the pipe
So torch it with the light unfortunately
it'll be gone, but not tonight (4x)
I'm leaving
To a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain't what they seem
I'm leaving
To find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin' for days
I'm leaving
AYE-YO I'm going home to atone for abandonin' my native tongue grown
From the soil of my soul that I'll toil till I'm old
Passin' the torch like the mic that I hold