Smoke In The Rafters

Decent Stranger on July 06, 2013 05:16

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    over El-P – "Delorean"

    BONUS TRACK: "Matt walks in while I'm in the middle of a take"

    Lyrics:

    El-P – “Delorean”

    Good times with old friends, we puff on some piff
    Smoke in the rafters, laughing as we riff
    Smoke in my clothes, ashtray cologne
    Back from L.A., Del gave me his Girbauds

    I still rap bad but I used to, too
    Listen to children’s tunes, chopped and screwed
    Like Cinderella and the Seventh Chamber
    Keep the body rocking like a flexible manger

    Bring me champagne when I’m parched in the summer
    Bring me pad and paper when the parchment’s a bummer
    It’s just decent stranger, I swear, no conspiracy
    Those who nod now you know that you are dear to me

    Too many never heard of active listening when the
    Women get busy with their spinning and twisting again
    It’s tornado alley right in front of the subs
    And a wealthy kid’s convincing us he’s sitting on dubs

    Maybe it’s just me and maybe it’s you
    I’d rather walk a day and put a hole in my shoe
    So when the blacktop is scorching and my soul is melting
    I’ll leave my nikes in hell and fly for shelter

    Scream phoenix from an ashen cave
    Hop out of a cold shower, splash water and shave
    I look good enough to lie to my reflection
    Hope the girls I love will fall for misdirection

    This is, panic attack rap, public paranoia
    Acid flashbacks and more tragic clairvoyance
    Hope you never get close enough to see these scars
    Hope the world doesn’t mind I drink PBR

    Pin a blue ribbon on me like winning the state fair
    First prize, kid, congrats, enjoy the lake air
    I hated truth and dare, being open was ugly
    But now I know my peers are just as broken as me

    So we can fix each other, we were born with the proper tools
    We can work at age 14 and drop out of school
    Or we can create what we want, the world accommodate
    Talk how you feel, girl, your sonics are great

    I love hearing my generation talk about loved and hated
    Love hearing twenty-somethings fatefully elated
    Admitting to their Twitter with an ironic punchline
    Shit got real hard after leaving the lunch line

    So we bluff the best we can with no ace in the hole
    We shine with all our might with no traces of gold
    Put a fork in my hand and slowly force me to the toaster
    That’s my problem with growing emotionally closer

    Coffee beans, I need, wake early to brew a pot
    It’s awful to fiend, no choice to do it or not
    Almost hope I get shot on the way to my day job
    And in a martyr’s eulogy, some say I did a great job

    This is a thing, I may start a movement
    I may be remembered by the coolest, but when happenstance and
    Lady Luck have an orgy with bad karma
    I better have been more than a simple fad starter

    And when the beat changes I better bring the magic
    Write something novel to shock em’ anaphylactic
    Better bounce a bitter biter with an elastic canvas
    Make El-P proud when I rip Fantastic Damage

    This is new hip-hop, past the end of the horizon
    When I peaked above a valley my iris bent and widened
    Now, I honestly I find a little comfort in debauchery
    I reinvented hell into little more than awful dreams

    Cough to bleed until I stopped buying rolling papers
    Packs of orange zigs til I came down with the vapors
    New human can of play-dog, smash me til I’m misshapen
    You can find me feeling day-glo, capering at Capen

    She’s taken, you never really had chance bro
    He’s tall, he can dress, gel his hair and dance slow
    I can’t even hate, he’s got noble on his jersey
    I hop in the darkness to return when it gets early

    So I walk slower, saunter like a haunted panther
    A jungle filled with one man’s adventures with candor
    Cheers, it’s candid camera, we know who you are
    Field, field, house, Galileo after shooting stars

    Someone playing it sniper, still figure in tall ferns
    Can’t see me in the thermal scope, even Wahlberg
    Because I slither sinister, sitting simple in the dark
    I remind myself to breathe, restart my heart

    Punish my aorta with gray and silver air snakes
    Who cares, I’m 20, I’ll live until my care’s fake
    After which I’ll be a hermit on the tallest mountain
    What’s left of tired family, like, “Oh shit, call him down again”

    Let him know the mountaintop been gone for decades
    He’s being a little fuckboy, something like what sex makes
    He’ll realize his escapades in the eye of the storm
    He’ll leave the third person and make “I” his new norm

    "Smoke In The Rafters" by Decent Stranger is licensed under a Creative Commons License

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