Universe
04-14-07, 11:29 AM
Rhapsody- An instrumental composition irregular in form and suggestive of improvisation.
......
To even the score like a symphony, I torture ya
I lied when I told ya I’m composed like orchestras
While electrified by conductors, the acoustics just blew
So blow-harmonica like how Lewinsky’s publicly viewed
According to you, I should record this in booths
Should I get accordions too? And play to a chorus of boos?
Hip Hop keeps me grounded, you just sent to your room
So how could I listen to pop? … He left me too soon
Adult contemporary, they’re temporary; soul is back
Follow in his tracks? I don’t listen to all that jazz
If I’m in rhythm, it’s a wrap, you’re no music fan
But I’ll make ya harmony-grow like the Ku Klux Klan
Want to tango? Swing your arms and slide your feet
My words are instrumental; organs are inside of me
All that noise annoys me; turn to another dumb beat
Music’s language is universal, so fukk your country
With no other alternative, you got the Texas blues
Bring the temp up to sonata, but nada’s getting through
Meddle in heavy metal like Yaga, gotta get in the mood
Cuz once you polka b!tch, you’ll wanna get in the groove
We’re passed the interlude, and proceeding quite well
So why refrain? There’s no use in repeating myself
When sound-tracks us down, the lame jig is up now
The only time you beat-boxing was playing Punch Out
Don’t mean to harp on it; I pull every string tight
‘Till I b-sharp, so throw caution to the windpipe
Your tone needs soprano; you can’t a-choir this
Like a bullpen, you need a staff just to find your pitch
Listen to the speaker; don’t wait to have your say
Silence is golden… I guess that’s not your forte
Sing gospel all day, and God’ll pull that steeple
It’s nothing to hymn; He rockin’ rolls like fat people
Pack theatres, and you’re allowed to be loud, I guess
Unless I’m drowned out, don’t breathe down my neck
Get it? Whatever; there’s probably tons of fine quotes
But like Post-Its on refrigerators, I’ll leave on a high note.
......
To even the score like a symphony, I torture ya
I lied when I told ya I’m composed like orchestras
While electrified by conductors, the acoustics just blew
So blow-harmonica like how Lewinsky’s publicly viewed
According to you, I should record this in booths
Should I get accordions too? And play to a chorus of boos?
Hip Hop keeps me grounded, you just sent to your room
So how could I listen to pop? … He left me too soon
Adult contemporary, they’re temporary; soul is back
Follow in his tracks? I don’t listen to all that jazz
If I’m in rhythm, it’s a wrap, you’re no music fan
But I’ll make ya harmony-grow like the Ku Klux Klan
Want to tango? Swing your arms and slide your feet
My words are instrumental; organs are inside of me
All that noise annoys me; turn to another dumb beat
Music’s language is universal, so fukk your country
With no other alternative, you got the Texas blues
Bring the temp up to sonata, but nada’s getting through
Meddle in heavy metal like Yaga, gotta get in the mood
Cuz once you polka b!tch, you’ll wanna get in the groove
We’re passed the interlude, and proceeding quite well
So why refrain? There’s no use in repeating myself
When sound-tracks us down, the lame jig is up now
The only time you beat-boxing was playing Punch Out
Don’t mean to harp on it; I pull every string tight
‘Till I b-sharp, so throw caution to the windpipe
Your tone needs soprano; you can’t a-choir this
Like a bullpen, you need a staff just to find your pitch
Listen to the speaker; don’t wait to have your say
Silence is golden… I guess that’s not your forte
Sing gospel all day, and God’ll pull that steeple
It’s nothing to hymn; He rockin’ rolls like fat people
Pack theatres, and you’re allowed to be loud, I guess
Unless I’m drowned out, don’t breathe down my neck
Get it? Whatever; there’s probably tons of fine quotes
But like Post-Its on refrigerators, I’ll leave on a high note.