Digable Planets

Last Of The Spiddyocks
{all together}(lyrics not printed)[Butterfly]The season's been good like a sweetI hang out with a gang out Flatbush with cool beatsI foun the reverberated shout was "god damn"And questions about the methods how the Planets made jamsWallowed through a gang of mirk in the interimA couple of times we got jerked but still invented themWicked litle kick it joints that got us ghetto wheightAnd also kept the jazz alive by pulling off the platesMaybe only we was hip to stretching out the brainI felt like Bird Parker when I shot it in my veinI toss these major losses on a Mingus jazzy strumFlip off into a nod and dig myself for dying youngIt's like cool was the bop and the flairI kicks it to my pools by the nap of the hairI'm pinning Uncle Sam for the death of swinging quotesFor losing Bud Powell sliding over Dizzy's notesWas it that the rebirth was the birth of new shit or cool shitThe jazz power shower showed the crew was sure legitBut hey presence is goneHank Mo's goneThey killed the coolest breeze in this land of the freeAnd it been like that since they lied about they flagSongtexteLike all my main man's gave their beats up for skagSo I pops it at your crew like Bu I did a lidBut I use Lee's Cooker I got my buzz around midnight{all together}(lyrics not printed)[Ladybug]The season's been smooth like the suedePumas that Butter got when Butter got paidOr better yet Dolphy's archetypes for cool dudesOr better still 'Trane using space in afro blueIt's simpleSwing be the freakin' of the timeThe spinning by the King's good for speaking of the mindThe 47 sessions gave the buzzes that I caughtThey asked me was it cool blues Knowledge{What you thought?}I told them it was solid, dig, the licks was way outMy baby loves to kiss when Ornette just lays outSo the quotes be as such about the kits, uh{You down with Digable Planets you is a hipster, shit}I lay it on the cats about MonkThe logical extensions coming booming out that trunkAssuming that the room in which you zoom's designed by your mind,not the stars and stripesBut Red Callis booms and the rat-a-tat-tat by Max or Philly JoeOn we go{all together}(lyrics not printed)[Doodlebug]The season's been fat like some boomDoodlebugs math jazz fillin gup the roomWhen Booker jammed with Eric at the funky 5 spotAnd Jimmy Cob's job was laying crashes on the topButter cops his lid at this little Harlem jamThe tenor bopped the middle in his shades and his tamI'm digging how these dudes made my buzz a little hipperAnd angles on the mood really couldn't get no blackerI'm sinking deep to the slickness of the hornI'm thinking take the hipness and just lay it in my formSo when the hoodlums flood waiting for another anthemI say it's in the blood 'cause it ain't nothing but rhythmAnd rhythm goes on and on to the break of moon babyThe dads is gone but the youth still come lovelyThe sickness towards the world when Sam caused the bluesBut hipness takes a swirl in jams by my crew{all together}(lyrics not printed) Aus Songtexte Mania