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Last of the Spiddyocks

Advisory - the following lyrics contain explicit language:

I'm blue mood yall, I slive with jiva yall

I'm actually deep yall, invented time yall

In ten fourths yall, I pay your cap yall

I player late yall and draw down toI bust raps yall, in love with naps yall

The sweet beats kid, I speak my thoughts yall

I wreck the break yall, dont trust the flag yall

I dig the birds yall, I'm layin' out now, yeahThe seasons been good like a sweet

I hang out with a gang out flat bush with cool beats

I found the reverberated shout was goddamn

And questions 'bout the methods how the Planets made jamWallowed through a gang a murk in the interim

I couple time we got jerked but still invented them

Wicked little kinky joints that got us ghetto weight

And also kept the jazz alive by pullin' off the platesMaybe only we was hip to stretchin' out the brain

I felt Bird Parker when I shot it in my vein

I toss these major losses on the Mingus jazzy strum

Flip off into a nod and dig myself a dyin' youngIts like cool was the bop and the flair

I kicks to my pools by the nap of their hair

I'm pinnin' Uncle Sam for the death of swingin' quotes

For losin' Bud Powell slidin' over Dizzy's notesWas it that the rebirth was the birth for new shit, of cool shit

The jazz power showers from the crew was sure legit

But hey, present since gone Hank Mo's gone

They kill the coolest breeze in this land of the freeAnd it been like that since they lied about they flag

Like all my main mans gave they beats up for skags

So I pops it at your crew like Bu I did a lid

But I used Lee's Cooker got my buzz around midnightI'm so shy yall, I'm hip to badge yall

From sector six, yeah and now and then too

I slows the trims yall and fades a fake now

I know the nat yall I'm layin' out yall, yeahThe seasons been smooth like the suede

Pumas that butter got when butter got paid

Or better yet Dolphy's archetypes for cool dudes

Or better still Trane usin' space in afro blueIts simple, swing be the freakin' of the time

The spinnin' by the kings good for speakin' of the mind

The forty seven sessions gave the buzzes that I caught

They asked was it cool blues knowledge

(What you thought?)I told 'em it was solid, dig, the licks was way out

My baby loves to kiss when Ornette just lays out

So the quotes be as such bout the kits, uh

You down with Digable Planets yous a hipster, shitI lay it on the cats about monk

The logical extensions comin' boomin' out that trunk

Assumin' that the room in which you zooms designed by your mind

Not the stars and stripes but red Cali? booms

And the rat-a-tat-tat by Max or Philly Joe on we goThe fly shit yall, we dont quit yall

Its slick beats here and its out there

A smooth groove kid, the jive is high yall

We aint marks yall okay pow me upUh, the seasons been fat like some boom

Doodlebugs math jazz fillin' up the room

When Booker jam with Eric at the funky five spot

Jimmy Cob's job was layin' crashes on the topButter cop his lid at this little Harlem jam

The tenor bop the middle and his shades and his tam

I'm diggin' how these dudes made my buzz a little hipper

And angles on the moves really couldnt get no blackerI'm sinkin' deep to the sleekness of the horn

I'm thinkin' take the hipness and just lay it in my form

So when the hoodlums flood waitin' for another anthem

I say its in the blood cause it notin' but rhythmAnd rhythm goes on and on to the break of moon, baby

The dads is gone but they used to come lovely

The sickness towards the worlds cause Sam caused the blues

But hipness takes a swirl and jams by my crewInfect space yall, we swing time yall

Its like milk yeah, its like be bop

The new scat slips, oh shit, we got fly kicks

Its like jazz, uh, its like us now

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