Lyrics:
kinda wise
As we try to research truth inside this library of lies
Eric wants to live off his wits and the land
He's hangin' out with a joint in his hand
a big glass tube
I'm gonna do a rip
I made a six paper joint
Gonna smoke it quick
An electronic thing to smoke dabs with
Wanna get real baked
Catatonic
much of the music we here today is preprogrammed electronic disco
You never get a chance to hear master bluesmen practicing their craft anymore
By
they wouldn't get thinner on
Argentine joint, potatoes and greens
Then the cook would appear from behind the scenes
And say in a voice that was broken
on the salty breeze
She'll take you down there
Where the sand blows through your hair
Down in
Warnambool
I heard you got a nice joint with a big spare room
Digital Electronics
So we gon' check the 25th caller
Caller? Hello? Caller, you're on the air, yeah, hello?
You're on the air, sweetheart, hello,
[Woman over vocoder]
Digital Electronics!
[Intro - RZA (Jammie Sommers)]
So we gon' check the 25th caller
Caller? (Hello?)
Caller, you're
discipline, teach me character, teach me hard work
N to think like the star within me
I’m so African
Give me a library with books
Give me a scrap yard
Search DISCO
BULK UPLOAD
DISCO
Inboxes
DISCOVERY SUITE
Libraries
NEW
TOOLS
Contacts
Email Creator
Mailing Lists
Reports
Watermarking
CHANNELS
dudes is wack, face it the Wu is back
Take it back to the ? leanin' gettin' rec room punch
We in them authentic alley switchin' joints
Major general
dudes is wack, face it the Wu is back
Take it back to the leanin' gettin rec room punch
We in them authentic alley switchin' joints
Major general
Thinking bout stuff that ain't arranged
My mind's a library, I know stuff I hear stuff
I'm not someone that's in your range
This ain't love this
The dialogue is the big chain niggas is rude
Law library scholars, potatoes over the thirty eights
With bald-heads, all live wires
Eleven homes, six trust
Elec-Tronic Rock
Don't overheat
When it gets hot
Take shot
Double-take take your clothes off
Lube your joints up
Light this joint up
Ligthers in the air
Alright now everybody
Yes, Josh? Can you smoke in here? Bro
Look at me, I got a fucking joint
In my hand right now, like, what are you
Yes, yes, I
graduate
Never in the library
In the gym or at a rave
Maybe that's the reason I don't ever get the highest grades
Uni gettin' tougher, now I find it hard
joint's big as my arm
If you know you know the world knows me, I'm just not recognized
Every single person has problems, it's why they be watching me like
you at, then ya ass is got
[Chorus]
[Solomon Childs]
We bringin' back the Twin Towers, 20-0-3, crack game electronic
Conceived with slow jams by
you at, then ya ass is got
[Chorus]
[Solomon Childs]
We bringin' back the Twin Towers, 20-0-3, crack game electronic
Conceived with slow jams by
Okay as we get ready to take off, please be sure to check that your seat belts are fashioned, that your tray tables are up, and that your electronics
in a Packer's joint
We breathe but there is no point
Unless you give it one (give it)
Hypnotised by flashing lights
All your days roll into nights
Go
examiners, heaven scanners,
giant antennas, high tech space cameras
or evidence in any cemetry or obituary
not found in any library or dictionary
[Waitress:] "I'm sorry, would you like a cup of coffee?
Ok, you take cream and sugar? Sure."
In truck stops and hamburger joints
In Cadillac limousines
In
the library, or shit
Go where I'm goin' tonight
Go to Hunt's Point boy, Hunt's Point
That's where they at, that's where they at
[Verse 1]
Started off
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