Busdriver - Note Boom lyrics

Hey, hey hey!

I was in a Hip Hop hair band
When I was watching Yo! MTV Raps
Then I went to the CV shack
And I burned my unpublished books
And invented my young rugged looks
Through an investment on your CD rack
When I became a star
Now girls show me their bikini wax
And shower me in vaginal secretions
For no rational reasons
Whatever happened to the
Undying purist's fuel
To buy the wishful rant?
The rap quiz bowl champ
Now I get invited to after parties where
Girls have good snatch and nipple clamps
(yeah right) i'm supposed to be protesting
At a missile plant
I'm supposed to be casting an unpopular vote


Instead of basking in a sauna
In the water-soaked swim trunks
There's a skin chunk on my salad fork
There's an inconsistency in my valid retort
You can dig in an underground T-shirt bin
But, you're just on the outside looking in
So I poured formaldehyde under
Your cooking skin because I'm from LA
Which means I'm a style snob
I can't imagine the validity
Of any rapper who can put me out of a job
'Cause while they were reading
Calvin and Hobbes
We found polyrhythms in their basic loop
But, I'm not from your favorite group
Put up your cypher circle's sacred hoop
I'm a hula hooper, bazooka-shooter
New recruiter of a
Daisy-duke-wearing lone groupie
I'll ask she'll play and take
Part in my home movie
Because I'm a scene slut
You facetious fucks
If y'all don't make some noise I'll be
Applying for employment at Pizza Hut
Let's be level headed
You can probably see through me
I'm the white man's character's nigga friend
In the ethnocentric teen movie
Well, shut the health nut's mouth
Just pay him for the green smoothie

Hold on, I'm still important
I was the clumsy co-author
Of your celebrated mantra for your movement
Then my felt pen turned into a coke spoon
And I want my love back
So I await a note boom

Want to see my live performance? (No)
How about I bump us a verse? (No)
What if I made a television appearance? (No)
Want to hear some exclusive tracks? (No)

Damn, tough crowd
I thought they would always touch
Clouds when I bust styles, but what now?

What kind of name is Busdriver?
Is it just a wack allegory?
And it can't be justified
By any background story?
I heard he sucks live
Only appeals to hipsters who
Dress like Russian spies
Who are painfully cool and have button-eyes
A fan will squeeze a pint of fresh juice
And it'll discompose a recluse
But no childhood sex abuse can
Explain my terrible habit's
That is why "single" is my marital status
And it's why I'll happily take
Cash advances from charitable half-wit's
And being that I'm from the Project Blowed
I'm constantly probed by the
Weak and the dull
With poor and boring things asked
I'll put a breech in the hole
Of their exploratory space craft
With oratory weight mass
Bleach their skulls 'Cause in recent polls
A black rapper's viewed as
A voyeuristic dunce
Who doesn't care about the
B-Boyer's intrinsic hunch
And now indie music is instant lunch
At industry parties I piss in the punch
And won't take a business card
I have a disregard for life
I'm not on a mission to Mars to
Leave satellite-dish shards in the night

Hold on, I'm still important
I was the clumsy co-author
Of your celebrated mantra for your movement
Then my felt pen turned into a coke spoon
And I want my love back
So I await a note boom

Want to see my live performance? No!
How about a bump us a verse? No!
What if I made a television appearance? No!
Want to hear some exclusive tracks? No!

Damn, tough crowd
I thought they would always touch
Clouds when I bust styles, but what now?

I thought they would always go buck wild
But now they want a nigga with a plucked brow
Wow, tough crowd the room is fucking loud