“Where’s He Going” by John Fitzgerald
Yeah, It goes First to last
Leave a crater on impact, It’s a fact
Plead your case and get smacked
Yeah, sayin’ first is the worst
You’re Times New Roman, I’m a little more cursive
Rollin’ so damn deep with these cursed verses
Rumoring when the bad word disperses
Bad news; the worst is always fallin’ on deaf ears
HA, ask me where I’ll be sittin’ in ten years
The man in your nightmares, he’s stirrin’ your fears
The reason Ray Charles was always drownin’ in tears
Tearin’ apart the family, misunderstanding is the schism
New trends; edgier than a rectangular prism
Mixed emotions,
He’s gone and she doesn’t know if she should miss ‘em
More than a few problems these days, here I’ll list ‘em.
Chorus:
Yeah, ashes to ashes, dust to dust
All that glitters is gold but then it turns to rust
Tryna catch up with the rest; tryna fulfill
Her only source of calories was her diet pills
Even superman’s retreating, gottem askin’ “where’s he going?”
As the clouds of smog in the distance behind him keep growing
Yeah, Skies go hazy in this crazy delirium
Poor kid had no idea that it was steering em’;
Straight, Into on-coming traffic
It’s tragic how his addiction bounced back like an elastic
How fantastic, he starts stealin from thugs and gets his ass kicked
Actions turn drastic
Man, we all know where the story goes from here
Long prison sentence, he been locked up for years
His thoughts were a fog, but his conscience was clear
The reason superman flew so far away from here
[Chorus Fades]
“Below it All” by John Fitzgerald
We’re doin’ what they told us
He can tell he’s at the bottom cos' the world is on his shoulders
High rollers, square wheels, candle holders
Candle light like a vigil, vigilante
Kill the lights, up the ante.
Michael Franti
I be gone
Hit my stride and move along.
Lookin’ down; at his shoes
Looks back up just to look at you,
So long, see ya later
Hater, tryna stop him dead in his tracks
Dead wrong, the poor bastard fell between the cracks
In his mind, like a canyon
Swallows your dreams and then becomes your companion
(shift in tempo)
Predator, nasty when he takes the mask off
Count back 3,2,1 and watches em’ blast off
He’s a rap star, no stoppin him now
Ego inflated, smiling at the crowd
Cloud 9, elevate to the music
Platonic relations, never known to abuse it
On another level of revelation
Tellin’ the world he oughta tell the nation
Telekinesis, twist ya thoughts like the karma sutra
Non-linear time, lookin inward at his old future
Money the cake, thin slice like a butcher
Age differential, no cares, Ashton Kutcher
Cut your hair, change your name
Skip town, who’s to blame?
That acapella,
Lack of a better beat, its all the same
He’s taming the lost art of originality
Smooth verses on the mic, call it counter-brutality
A firm dose of loose reality
Pinched when he’s dreamin’
Wakes up, smells the coffee, and starts schemin’
A plot, to scratch and claw his way to the top
To stray away from the normal and the everyday pop
Like I said, hes a rap star, just try to get him to stop.
Aim high, might as well skip the prologue
Wave to the little people, crowds of them “Roloffs”
Cold heart; in angular degrees never Celsius
Change the angle of your approach; even hell sees us
We them crowd pleasers, Trailer; park; video teasers
What a feat, to visualize a life outside of Norton
But you’re too busy rottin your brain with them bath chemicals you’re snortin’
Think it’s funny with that ear-to-ear smile I’m sportin’
Horton heard the “Whos” but who the hell heard Horton?
OH, oh no, not a soul to be heard by
Like roadkill, anonymous death on the turnpike
My advice, keep a fear of remaining unheard
Jinx, you owe me a coke, and don’t you say one word
(Instrumental Break)
Next in line; the weakest link just broke
The food chain swings and you just let go
Of yourself, loss of inhibition
An epiphany, yeah, he claims he saw it in a vision
An apparition, crouched down by his bedside
Turn the water blood-red like the red tide
Bio-luminescent, shine like a full moon when it’s a crescent
No money, more problems, his life as a peasant
Pinch a penny, oughta stretch it a mile
Immune to that stench, he’s been in it a while
Yeah, it’s a new day, same s**t…bigger pile
Speaking figuratively of course
The man was so hungry he could ride a horse…
Or something, of that variety
Caste system, welcome to the flyer society
Oh my, it’s me, and on my back is a target
Leave your attitude at the door so it doesn’t get on my carpet
Pluralized, many clones of which
Causes the confusion and all the styles to switch
Off and on like a light switch
Fresh hat, expensive clothes and some diamonds on yo’ wrist
I’ve seen it all before, show me something I missed.
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