Subway Butterflies
Summertime Roles Get unusual Don't ask why And we won't try To justify
It was just into September When the school bell rang we could just about remember when we last got sprang days of early June, jumping out into the void tomorrows endless and the future wide now it's almost got to where we're getting annoyed by neighborhood annoyances we're tryin'a avoid went to 42nd street, army navy store got ogled at by the proprietor then to 48th to get some music gear luv dealin with the patronizing sales people there both of us returning from respective destinations get on the same F train at different stations there amongst the Mexicans, Russians and Croations Armenians, Asians, Iraquis and Jamaicans Standin' and sittin' in the overcrowded eastbound hot and sour car comin' from Astoria lookin' past the borders of the New York mind of state wait, don't I recognize that bold art warrior. Summertime Roles Get unusual Don't ask why And we won't try To justify ourselves. I was just about to cell you when my cell phone died. and yours with all my numbers, lost in the void. walked around the city, took the train went to all the places we used to hang. river, tracks, Washington Square, couple people said they hadn't seen you there. awh yea i was dealin' wit' my grandma's death cancer, it was f'n depressing damn, drag. didn't mean to be lame wouldn't blame you for cursin' my name, but I had bad family stuff goin' on mostly hid in my room wit' my thoughs and poems stayed up nights with the radio on writin' down the words to my favorite songs Summertime Roles Get unusual Don't ask why And we won't try To justify ourselves.
insecure and stressed out when you never did call tell the truth, I bummed and cursed me countin' all o' my faults figured that you really didn't care so much whether or not we really kept in touch man, i should smack you the way that I acted? I know then got discracted hangin' out front CB's met a band from Berlin made it to the mornin' with a gallon o' gin got the email of the A&R, says he's gonna make me an underground star prob'ly jus' tryina get some ass tell me about it it's a world of pederasts starting a band gonna perform with 28 bracelettes up and down my arms oh man, lemme tell you 'bout Upstate New York gettin' good at the bass, not even usin' a pick ya' know those long-haired cats played covers in the park and name o' the band: Making Medicine Sick. I heard a lotta stories, learned a thing or two lookin' for a singer who dress like a freak. like herbs , brews, swimmin' naked in the creek. sweet, what about you? what about me? let's get together and one, two three Summertime Roles Get unusual Don't ask why And we won't try To justify ourselves.
Words by Rivka and Mike iLL Music by Mad Happy Copyright BMI
Young, Beautiful and Stressed
endless days of summers past dragged along when we were small now they seem to go so fast were they ever ours at all? going out into the city on adventures when successes were insured enough to bet back when family was just some people you was stuck with as opposed to takin' all you can get so hard to find somebody you can trust a little honesty is a dangerous thing so we run for the safety of independence adulthood promises to bring sleep, my darling, let your dreams be sweet. Morning will come soon enough Drag us back onto our weary feet. Only our love can pull us through. some would say that we are blessed to be young beautiful and stressed Childhood dreams we still pursue People try to make us doubt. In our hearts we think fuck you Smile and say don't stress me out. some would say that we are blessed to be young beautiful and stressed. come thru on tour you ask nu,how was vacation? yea. one big fun vacation. only vacatein' your' vicinity, holmes have anotha cup o' coffee and cinn-a-bonez when i say don't stress me out it means don't sit behind your jealous gaze and pry into the vacant haze of what you think is behind this heart NAKEDNESS NAKEDNESS COMPLETE N TOTAL NAKEDNESS sleep, my darling, let your dreams be sweet. Morning will come soon enough Drag us back onto our weary feet. Only our love can pull us through. some would say that we are blessed to be young beautiful and stressed.
Wings
one for the innocence , three for the truth twenty years to late to love me in the dark on my own, i'm not alone still too blind to see on phantom shoulders i cannot lean watch the waning moon soon unseen i'm not waiting for the morning even for the dawn found my wings i'm flying now hold the tears no cryin' now Boo Hoo the scapegoat has died she lives on in my memory as the part i left behind so tired of these songs they inspire drying my tears at that fire all these years here's what i learned never let them stir the ashes embers of my fears turnin' on me at the edge, where blame the victim plays the game selfishly unsane time after time, it ain't complex let me lay it out real plain why i'm vexed first, i had sex before gettin' married to them i was a whore. for a year i was ignored. next, after i professed having been molested got mean stares for the next three years blamed , for the drama in our family affairs laughed n' called me selfish, was cryin' on the floor bangin' my head on the fridgedaire door, now someone's gettin' married and they want me to come so those damn photo albums won't be missin' anyone? i'll be there cause in fact i don't dig dramatics telephone games and emocrabatics enough with that static 3x i'm done REPEAT CHORUS in fear and enraged always the outcast these fading remnants of my past the things that noone else would say let, sleeping dogs lie call the hell hounds to my side i wasn't born to wait to die to walk on tiptoes all my life and never wonder why So, friends of mine, it ain't done yet I've always been prone to...get upset even, flippin' out, when my damn people carry on, talkin like they care , OR tryin'a make a score game outta who to blame still ignoring the real pain Walk these dogs down 13th ave watch... all the yentas talkin trash; that's what they have Skeletons in closets stinkin' up too many homes That is why you always see my doggie diggin' bones Narrowly avoiding being put to sleep By, the tznius patrol crawlin' up that street so y'all can, hang righteous, holdin out on old habits Quotin dogmatic verse while your at it Wha'ssup that attic Wha'ssup that static Enough with that static i'm done Words by Rivka and Mike iLL Music by Mad Happy Copyright BMI
Wake Up
fighting biting out o control loosin my teeth losin my soul the old witch knows what i'll go through she's seen the end and she's telling me to wake up wake up ghastly ass attitudes come to bed every night i go head to head personification fear and greed toss me aroun like a tumbleweed wake up wake up runnin around with a heart of foam achin and shakin i only roam through the ruins of the danger zone hell in a bathroom i have no home in this dream i've been havin for weeks the old crone grabs me by the cheek pulls me close and begins to talk i'm a beautiful body but nobody will look i'm a bus full o kids rollin off the dock i'm accused of murder but i can't talk i'm allowed to leave but the door is stuck i'm ablunt gettin smoked and i can't wake up i'm a truck on a hill and i can't stop im' assuming the worst cause it always reverts and i'm certain that my bubble is about to burst wake up wake up mysteruous deats in ya family tree question marks in ya ancestry has one o yall ever died peacefully only ever stories o tragedy wake up wake up buckets of blood spilled by women who give the evil eye if i's not a chase it'll be a fight hope i never dream tonight wake up wake up i'm gonna change these wayward ways with which i've lived for ten thousand days memory is basically a stressfull haze runniun from the demons i'm supposed to face wake up wake up
Truckstop Honeymoon it ain't like things changed much once we hit the road being too broke for a coffee and a roll that don't slow you down, just more o-the same stubborn forward march maxxed out cards and empty bank accounts, only leave a psychic mark late morning in the parking lot at a place called flying j nuzzled under the interstate with an all you can eat buffet aside from the sun, noone cares if we sleep till twelve or one, and the drive, town-ta-town, helps me forget where i came from wasn't raised on a runcible spoon a year and a day on a truck stop honeymoon everything we had to spend we spent on a one way ticket now we're down and out, high n' dry with nuthin' but our looks to get us by if i'm gonna starve tonight then i wanna starve by your side drinkin' truck stop coffee and i tell you it's all right you know that you look gorgeous when ya' cry if this is what they call freedom i'll take it if this is bad as it gets we'll make it every single turn somethin's testin' me fates just jealous cause we're spendin' all our time chasin' signs for destiny we were nearly half insane and broke down by the time we left our strange hometowns living at the edge of bored to death in a place called no surprise where the only thing that ever changes is what gets you high I'd already kicked dope and crack and a bad slut habit... twice, at least and i'd just been replaced by a proper queen at a west side hair salon if we had what to lose, it was getting old on mary-jane and jack and away was the only worthwhile place to get. wasn't raised on a runcible spoon a year and a day on a truck stop honeymoon if i ever knew your strength if i ever believed in your resolve to achieve even your wildest dreams nothing is as dire as it seems even as the sky turns pink on another night here at the brink we've got love to make records to break nothin' but romance to fill the hours if this is what they call freedom i'll take it if this is bad as it gets we'll make it every single turn somethin's testin' me fates just jealous cause we're spendin' all our time chasin' signs for destiny
Shortbus theater is silent, lights are dim curtains parted, kid about 10 standing on the corner, lookin' forlorn backpack droopin' below the shoulders hair is greasy, the pants are torn high- waters, with a patch in the knee half tucked-in, a stretched out tee says A.K.W.A.R.D. looks into the crowd and begins to speak Children we all are New as the morning Wild the dreams we entertain. Winding paths we travel Offer endless possibilities. CHORUS Short Bus riders, Pick me up to. They don't want me, On the big one Let me come with you. Forget about the theater, It's a TV Set streets are empty, Slick and wet Kid about 18, Dressed in fatigues Get out the elevated subway train Unlock a ten speed and ride off, in the Rain, montage ridin' 'round fact'ries, ware'ouses, shipyards, and broke down Trucks 'n cars. stoppin' at da' brown Door. swing open to da' sound Soft is the gaze and Softer the heart that's Roaring in it's lair again. Creatures of the jungle all come Out tonight and shake the trees. Forget about the theatre, Forget the TV It's a full hallucination, On L.S.D. A glowing apparition,Emerges from the trees It might be a figure from your childhood religion maybe from a story when your mama used read you to Sleep. You can't quite recall but it feels like a happy ghost, and you smile touch your companion who yav loved for a while but ya both been livin in a state o denial Beasts of the east Come feast on the meats 'Till only tactile sense remains. Sanctify the libertine all Tangled up in exstacy. Words by Rivka and Mike iLL Music by Mad Happy Copyright BMI
Phantasy
Drinkin' beer by the liter in an X rated theater; I need a Phantasy Uninhibitor. Deep inside my dirty heart My sexuality is a secret even from me Really especially see when an Erotic phantasy enters my mind Got to stop it first check an' see if it's the right kind Because there's rules, dictated by society. They vary from place to place and person to person But for certain there is always what's considered bizarre Perverse, unnatural or goin' too far I think I need a mystic Faster and slicker than an undercover Hipnotist, dippin' into unconsciousness To help negotiate between imagination, ego and libido Let me leave aside the bottle, straw and needle. Alcohol, heroin, cocaine, adrenalin Tools of release from social demands That may be in opposition to instinctual demands Leave me with a gag on my mouth, and shackled hands. Unable to express, this is who and how I am. Will I ever find some happiness Caught in the axis of praxis and stasis The stuff that I chase is the stuff that erases. Drinkin' beer by the liter in an X rated theater; I need a Phantasy Uninhibitor. My steamy, creamery dreamies Populated with casts of outcastaway archetypes of all types Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, Uncle Sam, Christopher Robin Joan of Ark, Gertrude Stein, Peter Parker, John Divine Aphrodite, Yemaya, Don Quixote, Amen Ra Headed toward the Emerald City Packed inside a fire engine Someone turns around says Don't let me forget to mention "I saw the light, I saw the light "No more darkness, no more night." We take flight and the sky becomes ocean Soon I see a siren sittin' on a dolphin Facin' his tail, leanin' over his fin, Gettin' his spout in a certain position. Awake to a freak in boys underwear Givin' head to a slob with matted black hair Somewhere out here near 42nd street, Floor stickin' to my feet, Fallin' in and out o' sleep... Drinkin' beer by the liter in an X rated theater; I need a Phantasy Uninhibitor. Fantasy Uninhibitor Helpin' me discover my fears and desires Things I never would'a expected to be thinkin' about Comin' out, freakin' me out, it's all allowed. I need a license to explore my inner core, Always hidin' in the closet is gettin to be a bore. I need a permit to hunt for and open door, Because closets are for clothin' not for me anymore. So anyway, all we are tryina say is Can't we go crazy responsibly Feel how it feels to be free of mental penitentiary Is this really how it's meant to be Stewing in self-prescribed chemistry. Drinkin' beer by the liter in an X rated theater; I need a Phantasy Uninhibitor. Drinkin'.
Mid-July Mania beat, can't sleep summer heat and the blurry vision very weary bleary eyed tried by the television news shows cop shows paid advertisements late night religious nut's spiritual advising sending me in to a skeptic's fit like the end is nigh, and i think i'm down for it who the hell is president? what does he do? what does it mean vote for x - it's all the same, rearrange the balls an' chains as if it really mattered another night thinkin how to change the world Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna hold it Words keep oozing out of me like fluids out o' corpses threatening to drown me in neurotic neurosis sit amongst friends silent and embarrassed insecure beneath the weight of social paralysis time flies. fine, i'm waitin'ta get left behind mentally composin' a goodbye to my dear mind things are really comin' to a head here what's ahead is unclear probably more of this wear and tear, need and fear as if it really mattered another night thinkin how to change the world Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna hold it All I've really been tryin a do here is let out some pain an' there really aint nothin new here just tears in the rain the beat don't stop till the break of dawn walk the city streets till it's all night long no pity sleeps on my broken lawn just a preacher preachin 'bout where ya been whatcha been doin an how it's a sin but there's no such thing as evil and i show no shame hang my guilt in a gilded frame take a look at what the cat dragged in straight faced hustlers n' hard luck whores wired, tired, un-in-spired and i don't know why i'm talkin cause you probably heard it all before bet it's been put better by a def-er dead competitor competing for the minds ear of the disenfranchised disenchanted literate academeans that I pine for here the attention and respect and admiration of anything for eternal life is that alot to ask for? things are really coming to a head here what's ahead is unclear probably more o this wear n tear, n needy fear as if it really mattered another night thinkin how to change the world All I've really been tryin a do here is let out some pain an' there really aint nothin new here just tears in the rain lows are so low so when i get up i wanna lows are so low so when i get up i wanna lows are so low so when i get up i wanna lows are so low so when i get up i want to hold it Words by Rivka and Mike iLL Music by Mad Happy Copyright BMI
Little Miss
just another one of these blase days characterized by my cynical attitude and over all malaise wanna commit something somethin', less permanent than suicide so i, stick to the side streets to avoid socializing with people that won't get it if i tell'em what i really think hoping ta run inta someone who understands emotions have a tendency to sink
now i need a friend got that feelin' again like i let my true aim bend. tryin'a avoid another rendition of poor little miss understood nuthin' is as bad as it seems man we're followin' our dreams man city's full of people wish they had our means man we commune with the universe on a daily basis writein' verse that takes us places. the one thing, keeps us just this side o' mental cases now i need a friend got that feelin' again like i let my true aim bend. tryin'a avoid another rendition of poor little miss understood so i'm rockin these beats an rickety rhymes half the time i'm flyin' the other 3rd tryin what i gonna do is turn these bad trips out like this back when i was merely a toddler bangin on the pots and pans than when i became a teenager we started with the basement jams daddy said i needed a job mama said i need ta make plans yes make plans to rock jump freak hop shake our stuff and dance dance dance dance rockin these beats an rickety rhymes half the time i'm flyin' the other 3rd tryin what i gonna do is turn these bad trips out like this here we are again in a theatre bar 'r dive expounding about the pain in our lives eking out a living to be subsidized hiding what we'd rather see legalized days of our lives swing from torture to rapture moments we capture, we don't create old students guide us to the garden gate up to me to go through though, and it really has gotten late now i need a friend got that feelin' again like i've let my true aim bend. tryin'a avoid another rendition of poor little miss understood
Shoot
smoked a lotta cigarettes since we last spoke quit so many times it's almost a joke rollin' up another one, take another toke thinkin' better this than stuff you shoot bang bang shoot bang bang fall down on the sofa and pick up the remote tuesday afternoon it's only talk shows and soaps grainy latin station got a western 'bout a bloke who's desperate lover begs her husband not to shoot bang bang shoot bang bang underneath the coffee table pile o' magazines mostly catalogues that get mailed here for free one full o guns tryina advertise to me the fastest you can legally shoot bang bang shoot bang bang what a crazy world we are livin' in, livin' in it's a mad bad life but it's ours for the living so let's do it up right and let's use what we're given i'm con- fused but i'm driven this is just the next revision nothing more. bang bang shoot bang bang if you're done with your religion you can put it on Ebay mine's up to 97 cents the auction ends today sitting by the laptop with a gun to my head hoping that i find a reason not to shoot bang bang shoot bang bang
Words by Mike iLL and Rivka Music by Mad Happy Copyright BMI
Oozin' FrankenProphetics
all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night rattling light bulb, bent beam of light noon o'clock peace pipe, twenty hour night. haven't had a minute to mind, my own business since three o'clock this morning that was takin' a hit . system alert reads vitamin depletion hope that this session is, nearing completion interstellar highs, and disconcerting lows sound of drums beating and super nova braincells so many revelations came and went so fast nothing but the blur from the future and the past eyes became globes of multicolored light and the walls became windows, and the mirrors liquid gas all whispered secrets, i could almost grasp yelled "thank y'all, think i get it at last" the sun rose called it, moon knew my name everything in the universe a, dream or a game all emotions a choir in my chest, till pain and confusion the only ones left. the color of a light bulb after its been fried perfectly describes what's going on inside rattling rattled jacked up shootin' sparks half resurected frankenstein loose parts all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night bred to spend life pickling in a think tank gonna hack the code reprogram the brain bank balancing th' mind body fraction ev'ry act shouldn' only be the product of a giant chain reaction we just numbered faces line of falling dominos? think i just figured out wow! how the equation goes: e=mc squared divided by why cubed to the power of what now? found the answer but it's slated for rejection 'cause get a lot more use if i remembered what the question was wouldn't need to wonder what the wonder was about if only we could only see around or through the wall of fear and doubt nicotine notions, unwarranted emotions who needs sleep when you got these magic potions mad more streams effervescent mind fall holographic images reflected by the disco ball saturday night fever monday morning shiver i become, a believer someone take me to the river and drop me in the waves yo i heard Isis saves feels like i've been pulled, from multiple graves sewn together with electrifed chain circuit breaker belly, fuzbox brain all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night whoa what a wild, wet, windy night eight hundred volts an' we're still not fried still a rough ride, gettin' to the bedside you asleep? wide awake. 'least we tried excuse me would you lick my lightening bolt? The one I was throwin' last time you was blowin' it's hard bein' a god in a hollywood world so glad to help, lemme lighten your load every so often ya gotta get off this planet that spins, never slows or stops what'd you just say? i guess i forgot. i think it was brilliant... of course... or not. gettin' off the planet and out' the rat race we can make it happen if we work as a team i'll ride u an' u ride me i'll be the rhythm and u b tha beat i'll be the necklace you be the beads i'll be the drumming and you be the dance i'll be the question u b the answer a yin-yang hang in the 4th dimension the teseract swing, the timestar stomp double-click soft drive digital dump Words by Mike iLL and Rivka Music by Mad Happy Copyright BMI
File 2 the Metal. Nail on the record make the beat sound raw. Needle was wore out, had to replace it. Face it; tape up the 'lectric wires, So as not to cause underground club fires. Up in the loft known as the space station, From where we launch the sound vibration. Freaks emerge from a strait-laced nation, Professional expression of self. Now, how many styles can the DJ drop? Rock, Punk, Funk, Electro, Pop. Bounce.All bounce to the echoing sounds. Bounce to the echoing sounds. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce to the echoing sounds. Bounce to the echoing sounds. Parties like this are hard to find. The rules have never been defined. Chaotic styles are all combined. First thing that we do is decide we're gonna throw. A party with a flow to make ya body swing., No need to act rude. Bring a proper attitude. It's not a fuckin' contest, dude. Back in grammar school we used to have to politic, Who was cool with who, and who was on who's side. Think quick; adrenalin overdrive; burned, beat, tired; Runnin' from school yard battle cries Untie me from this situation. I got to get out before I get numb. Then having gained independence from, Jive over-dramatized circumstance; Hook up the cable, rock the turntable; Willing and able to blow my (all the time) mind Invisible chameleon in the DJ booth; Fillin' the dance floor with boomin-thumpin-bumpin', Proof that rhythm survives for us at all cost. This is not the land of the lost. Parties like this...All bounce.. Is it complicated to you If we continue to include, All music styles in the party menu? If it's complicted to you, We will continue to include, Instruction books in the party menu. File to the metal, bust us out of our cages. What? Accuse us of being outrageous? We may just go through phases, Ain't nothin' wrong with tryin' on faces. We can go forth courageously; Experimental sound and philosophy, Identifying as the human family, Constructing culture from an ultra-wide range, Sonic boundaries conquered daily, The rules can (and they always will) change. Parties like this......Parties like this... Words by Mike iLL and Rivka Music by Mad Happy Copyright SIRJ, BMI
Renegade Geeks This is dedicated to the underground freaks, Hard core hippies and renegade geeks. This goes out to the hackers and the crackers and the Party crashers in the place to be. Ya think you could come to understand me, Sittin' in front 'ya cable TV? Don't care to? Well good for you. 'Cause I wouldn't wish that point of view, On my worst enemy. Your not even worthy of my apathy. You don't even exist as far as your concerned; Just a pile of "feed-me"s and "what have I earned, "From the chairman of the board?", An SUV. Well join the hoard. I mean the herd. Ya prob'ly ain't heard, A word I'm sayin'. This is dedicated... Eh Eh Eh Eh Click! Wake up, and let yourself out 'tha cage. Ya rush to work, stayin' on the path, Then ya see me dancin' on the grass. Ya say, "Who's that, and what are they doin'?", We're Mad Happy and we're happy to ruin, Your little strait world, Like an intrusion. A fuckin' protrusion from beneath the illusion, That everything is as it should be. Top 'o the mornin' to ya, Exchange pleasantries; "How's the family? How's the new job?" "My kid's not a fag. Dig the new Saab. Ya prob'ly ain't heard, A word I'm sayin'. This is dedicated... Don't be seduced by the likes of me, Into this life of poverty. Integrity never paid one bill, I'll be 98 still strapped to the grill. Gotta sell sell sell just to make one end, When people are behaving like the North Wind. Lord, I'm prayin'. Ya prob'ly ain't heard, A word I'm sayin'. This is dedicated... Words by Mike iLL and Rivka Music by Mad Happy Copyright SIRJ, BMI
Loaded Up It's a loaded question like a loaded gun, When I ask if anybody wants to come, On a trip across the Universe, To where Jimi, Janis and Jaco rehearse. To study with people we never heard of, Masters we never got word of. 10,000 feet stompin' to phantom drums, From hence inspiration comes. Peace and love, you can call it a act. Actually it ain't that, B. Bringin' it back to see how you react to me, Makin' a pact to be, More creative than a funky factory. Give peace a chance to romance you, Slip on your dance shoes, Get up and dance to: Got a real hot body to party. Got a real hot burn in my body. Got a song that'll make ya rowdy, And I want everybody to shout it. All Loaded up. All Loaded up. All Loaded up. Loaded. More like a laughing Buddha than laughing last, The peace sign is more than a blast from the past, Or a decoration from the psychedelic scene, A bleached out design on your bell-bottom jeans. A peacekeeper is not a peace-maker, One use a gun, the other use a shaker. We care to create a hate free zone here. Keep goin' if you're goin' through Hell, Today's yesterday's worrisome tomorrow, And all's well. Could be the part of you that thinks that, Someone's out to get you's out to get you. How'd ya get to where ya at thinkin' that, There's a ghost in every shadow, Poised to attack. Ooh, what the heck was that?! I thought I heard a voice saying: "Bring that part back that goes": Give peace a chance to entrance you, Break in your dance shoes, Trying to dance to: Got a real hot... All Loaded up... Is it kaleidoscopic, concave, convex? This world appears to be quite complex. Never know what's gonna come from one day to the next. It's the ultimate plot with the ultimate fix. Constantly, constantly mysterious. Is there any meaning to any of this? Some say no, some say yes. Somewhere in the middle of between, Is the Nihilist who gets drunk and pissed at the Atheist, Throwin' his fist with the Anarchist. There's too much of this "ism" and "ist", Think it's about time to cease and desist and, Give peace a chance to advance you. Wear out your dance shoes, Learning to dance to: Got a ... All Loaded... Words by Mike iLL and Rivka Music by Mad Happy Copyright SIRJ, BMI
Paint it Pink Paint the white house pink. Keep it legal to think Everybody's got the right To live our own life. Might be that you wanna be a New York slut, Hollywood pimp, Miami Beach jiggalo Seen ya on the boulevard Prancin' around, Braggin about the good times you found. I don't care if ya drink coca-cola, Get fat or drive a Toyota Corola; Everybody's gotta have Som'n ta get in ta, Whether in the ghetto or En la hacienda Deep in the jungle or in the inner city Somebody will be the entertainment committee. So worship the devil, Allah or Elegua, Smoke a cigar or do tons of yoga Paint brushed, rollers and ten thousand gallons of ink. Paint the white house pink.... Why does paper money have to be dull green, With pictures of presidents and old stone buildings? Why not a spectrum of occupations, Root cultures and orientations? Why do inter-states have to be black beasts, That devour by the hour with aluminum teeth? We could make it automated, it could pull us along, Houston to Cleveland, Maine to Tucson? People try to label me an idealist when, I don't even know what perfection is; Just another fool manifesting a wish list, Full of ideals that I can't resist. Paint the white house pink... Hypnotize the leaders of the new regime, Help 'em realize the Martin Luther King dream Unchain the unconscious brain, When they come out, watch 'em rise up sane. I have seen the future and it looks like rainbow. Cupid took an arrow, sunk it into my vein so; Fell in love with mother earth and keep fallin, Deep and deeper; consider it a calling. Take it home and keep it going. We can be the people that can keep it going. It's good. It's good. It's gettin' better all the time. Words by Mike iLL and Rivka Music by Mad Happy Copyright SIRJ, BMI
Meaningless, not hard.
Waitin' for the bus to come and take me To clean the smokestacks at the factory Where in fact I'm currently employed. Fantasizing a fantasy And devising the latest scheme To get out this working class void. I can't stand it. Meaningless, not hard. Mr. Stiffneck, what a creep. Makin' the secretary weep. He's on the job 9 days a week And he doesn't know the meaning of rest or sleep. His pitiful wife stops by in the afternoon To chew out the unfortunate soul who Manages to incite her rage at the fact that She never gets laid. I can't stand it... How's about I win the prize A hundred thousand should suffice I'll walk out the door and not think twice 'Cause I can't figure the difference from death or life. This two bit town is hardly worth It's weight in the landfill we call earth Behind the time beyond belief Before I go, let me say good grief I can't stand it... Like Noah's ark in the trailer paark, I'm gonna get me a double wide Fit it with a floatation device That's over priced and over sized At the next big heavy rain Jump around, jump around go insane. I'm gonna dance up a hurricane And laugh while the city goes down the drain... Words by Mike iLL Music by Mad Happy Copyright SIRJ, BMI
Icicle Man Pain, horrible pain, insane, That's all you're gonna get, When you're in my game. I dip into the fire with my left fist, Ignitin' your desire like this. If ya never came back, I might not notice. I'm too busy, yea ya know this. Watch ya step, ya might not blow this Co-defendant, Relation-sinking-ship Horrible pain... I was cooooold when I left here. Coooold when I returned Ya never shoulda let me back in ya life Cause all ya ended up was burned by Pain... Two characters to my left and right, One's tellin' me wrong, one's tellin' me right. Now, who ya gonna think, gonna win this fight, Be the one in black or the one in white. Two sides to every story. That's the thing that's makin' me mad. The gory and the glory. So sad ya sad ya been had by.. Pain... To my black hole I'll suck you in, Without you even noticing 'N' when ya come out the other end Your gonna curse the day that you met this man. Ask me if I care, I might say yes, But if I tell you no, consider yourself blessed Because the truth hurts, But it ain't no worse than the ignorance ya call bliss. Pain. Horrible, terrible disgusting What!? I been rippin' from the start. Awh, baby. Whoops. I'm sorry, Was that your heart? Words by Mike iLL and Rivka Music by Mad Happy Copyright SIRJ, BMI
Serial Wigga By the city light I was buggin' out all night. Gave it to ya good, 'cause you said that I was just a White boy. Well I'm a white man. Nothin' is scarier. Just ask son of sam. Ya never know when I'm gonna strike next. I don't even know why i like ghetto tricks I'm a serial wigga Gonna get bigga' Than Biggie Smalls. Fillin' mad halls. I don't hang in malls; just sell in 'em. Big blue balls, ya know I'm gonna win 'em. 'Cause everybody knows, and everybody goes. Only thing depends is the degree that we hoes. I'm buggin, I'm buggin I need a Fix 'cause I'm goin' down. Down to tha place that I Left up town. I'm turnin' tricks just ta get around. Now I'm lookin' for my man, Forty dollars in my hand, I guess some things never change, You're a junkie. Try ta make a living 'cause ya know that we hoes. Everybody knows, and everybody goes. Only thing depends is the degree that we hoes. I got a pocket fulla cash and a tank fulla gas. Sack fulla grass and a nice piece of ass. Like to have a blast, but I don't suck glass. Born and raised and remain middle class. Got a Big Black collection, If ya know what I'm sayin'. Most people don't. Sonic, beastie, ill youth, If you feel what I'm meaning? Most freaks will. I'm buggin, I'm buggin I beat the beat 'Till I get satisfied. Like, Robert Johnson, walk side by side. It don't mean a thing, If they call it the white boy swing. Do wop, zoo wop do wop do wop zoo wop whaaaa I'm a serial wigga Gonna get bigga' Than Biggie Smalls. Fillin' mad halls. I don't hang in malls; just sell in 'em. Big blue balls, ya know I'm gonna win 'em. 'Cause everybody knows, and everybody goes. Only thing depends is the degree that we hoes. Dust my broom. Dust my broom. Woke up this morning, dust my broom. Go back home. Go back home. I believe I'll go back home. Words by Mike iLL and Rivka Music by Mad Happy Copyright SIRJ, BMI
Shoulda Dissed You I should have dissed you, A long time ago x 2 But I'm still hangin' on; For what, I don't know. You're so sorry, You messed up again. You're so sorry, You haven't got a friend. You're so sorry, You say it again, But I'm too tired To hear it this time. You love me, you love me, you love me. Those words you'll never mean. They sound as hollow as the deadest tree, In the dead of winter on the darkest night. You make me mad. You're fuckin' sorry. You're fuckin' story is gettin' old. I should have dissed you... Brrrrrr na na na nah You're lookin fine in the city light. Feelin' good in the neon light Feelin' bold, ya actin' bad, You're so smooth, it's makin' me mad. I see you clearly in the light of day. Your story's written in the lines on your face. All the people that ya used and dismissed, Won't be around to listen to you say that, You're so sorry, You messed up again. You're so sorry, You haven't got a friend. You're so sorry, and that's the truth. You're so sorry, I'm sorry for you. I shoulda dissed you... Words by Mike iLL Music by Benny Raw, Mike iLL and Zef Noise Copyright SIRJ, BMI
Wild and Bold Come on, come on, come on and take your mamma for a spin Get up, get in, pick it up pick it up pick it up The night is young, the whiskey and the bourbon and the gin are flowin' Sweet don't pack it in don't pack it in don't pack it in don't pack it in. The Devil wears a red cap, and dances with a cane A pocket full 'o' morphine and a golden violin Enticing us to join him if we dare to call his name. A nostril full 'o' coke don't pack it in, Don't pack it in don't pack it in don't pack it in. Party up, hey. Party up, hey. Party up, you wild and bold. It's back to work on Monday So all the way through Sunday We'll dance and stomp our feet don't pack it in, Don't pack it in don't pack it in don't pack it in. Our friends are just arriving from the night shift The waitresses and barkeeps a fight Break it up, break it up, break it up, break it up. The pimps and poets, the dealers and whores, The crazies and the cops don't pack it in Don't pack it in don't pack it in don't pack it in. Party up, hey. Party up, hey. Party up, you wild and bold. It's back to work on Monday So all the way through Sunday We'll dance and stomp our feet don't pack it in, Don't pack it in don't pack it in don't pack it in. Seek relief; mistreated in the belly of the beast All week, in heat burnin' up, burnin' up, burnin' up, Release control, relinquishing control Release another scream into the din, Don't pack it in don't pack it in don't pack it in. Party up, hey. Party up, hey. Etc... Words and Music by Mike iLL and RIvka Copyright SIRJ, BMI
