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The vinyl scratch of the 80's lifted up into the air like an aroma that isn't there before I knew a bass from a snare or cared about clothes or hair or where I was headed my mother was there if I got scared or to cover my eyes if a lady got bare chested for an hour I rested in front of music television wishin' to front this transmission instead of missin' afternoon session of kindergarden, mom was in the garden the ground was hardened up and Pookah wasn't yet a dog but a pup shluppin' up bologna corn chips and Star Wars figures I have pictures but that's about all in my mind small boxes and photo albums my first of course was Michael Jackson's Thriller when I heard this pappy made the purchase popped it on the plastic Fischer-Price turntable, enabling me to get down alone in my room I bopped and boomed in parachute pants and kangaroos you got the knews so now kick it... CHORUS People lift your heads up and listen to the chatter Things are never black and white you got to use your Gray matter People lift your heads up and hear the mind static Check the sound that we bring because true "soul" is so sporadic People put your feet down and lose the ties that bind Listen to the Malt because good funk is hard to find People put your feet down and dance... C'mon, you know we're crazy tight Songtexte HEY HO I take the astrophone to finish what B started I take it while I'm young but even at 60 I'll be carded BIP BOOM I use caccoons to keep ya biters out my thought den this bug became the butterfly while other boys became the men POP POW I took flight and spread my wings to show my beauty you can too, drop depression and the fear---that's much too gloomy ZIP ZOOM Gruvis writes history so put us on the shelf close your ears, shut your eyes, and pay attention to yourself...Doo Doo's CHORUS I got to rehearse the verse so no verse I invert so I present the message clearly to every Gruvis Malt convert to cavort on stage takes my wind away only here it's welcome when my teachers used to say "Please Calm Down" and frown at me for clownin' soundin' kind of silly crackin' on my classmate inbred hillbilly, so kill me...I did but administration couldn't be slayed however Corrupted its State at least I took the time to investigate my own local Watergate blew up to late for me to participate so all my hate that incubated was slated in fate to slay my rivals automate---but hold up, WAIT! What about happiness? Don't the tribe members promote joy with the music sewn slickly? Yes, but too much cheer can be sickly and like my boy GT Romen says, "Y'all ain't no hippies!" CHORUS Aus Songtexte Mania