| Song | Last Of The Spiddyocks |
| Artist | Digable Planets |
| Album | Reachin' (A New Refutation Of Time And Space) |
| 作词 : Digable Planets | |
| I'm blue mood y?all, I slive with jiva y?all | |
| I'm actually deep y?all, invented time y?all | |
| In ten fourths y?all, I pay your cap y?all | |
| I player late y?all and draw down to | |
| I bust raps y?all, in love with naps y?all | |
| The sweet beats kid, I speak my thoughts y?all | |
| I wreck the break y?all, don?t trust the flag y?all | |
| I dig the birds y?all, I'm layin' out now, yeah | |
| The season?s been good like a sweet | |
| I hang out with a gang out flat bush with cool beats | |
| I found the reverberated shout was goddamn | |
| And questions 'bout the methods how the Planets made jam | |
| Wallowed through a gang a murk in the interim | |
| I couple time we got jerked but still invented them | |
| Wicked little kinky joints that got us ghetto weight | |
| And also kept the jazz alive by pullin' off the plates | |
| Maybe only we was hip to stretchin' out the brain | |
| I felt Bird Parker when I shot it in my vein | |
| I toss these major losses on the Mingus jazzy strum | |
| Flip off into a nod and dig myself a dyin' young | |
| It?s like cool was the bop and the flair | |
| I kicks to my pools by the nap of their hair | |
| I'm pinnin' Uncle Sam for the death of swingin' quotes | |
| For losin' Bud Powell slidin' over Dizzy's notes | |
| Was it that the rebirth was the birth for new shit, of cool shit | |
| The jazz power showers from the crew was sure legit | |
| But hey, present since gone Hank Mo's gone | |
| They kill the coolest breeze in this land of the free | |
| And it been like that since they lied about they flag | |
| Like all my main mans gave they beats up for skags | |
| So I pops it at your crew like Bu I did a lid | |
| But I used Lee's Cooker got my buzz around midnight | |
| I'm so shy y?all, I'm hip to badge y?all | |
| From sector six, yeah and now and then too | |
| I slows the trims y?all and fades a fake now | |
| I know the nat y?all I'm layin' out y?all, yeah | |
| The season?s been smooth like the suede | |
| Pumas that butter got when butter got paid | |
| Or better yet Dolphy's archetypes for cool dudes | |
| Or better still Trane usin' space in afro blue | |
| It?s simple, swing be the freakin' of the time | |
| The spinnin' by the kings good for speakin' of the mind | |
| The forty seven sessions gave the buzzes that I caught | |
| They asked was it cool blues knowledge | |
| (What you thought?) | |
| I told 'em it was solid, dig, the licks was way out | |
| My baby loves to kiss when Ornette just lays out | |
| So the quotes be as such bout the kits, uh | |
| You down with Digable Planets yous a hipster, shit | |
| I lay it on the cats about monk | |
| The logical extensions comin' boomin' out that trunk | |
| Assumin' that the room in which you zooms designed by your mind | |
| Not the stars and stripes but red Cali? booms | |
| And the rat-a-tat-tat by Max or Philly Joe on we go | |
| The fly shit y?all, we don?t quit y?all | |
| It?s slick beats here and it?s out there | |
| A smooth groove kid, the jive is high y?all | |
| We ain?t marks y?all okay pow me up | |
| Uh, the seasons been fat like some boom | |
| Doodlebug?s math jazz fillin' up the room | |
| When Booker jam with Eric at the funky five spot | |
| Jimmy Cob's job was layin' crashes on the top | |
| Butter cop his lid at this little Harlem jam | |
| The tenor bop the middle and his shades and his tam | |
| I'm diggin' how these dudes made my buzz a little hipper | |
| And angles on the moves really couldn?t get no blacker | |
| I'm sinkin' deep to the sleekness of the horn | |
| I'm thinkin' take the hipness and just lay it in my form | |
| So when the hoodlums flood waitin' for another anthem | |
| I say it?s in the blood cause it notin' but rhythm | |
| And rhythm goes on and on to the break of moon, baby | |
| The dads is gone but they used to come lovely | |
| The sickness towards the world?s cause Sam caused the blues | |
| But hipness takes a swirl and jams by my crew | |
| Infect space y?all, we swing time y?all | |
| It?s like milk yeah, it?s like be bop | |
| The new scat slips, oh shit, we got fly kicks | |
| It?s like jazz, uh, it?s like us now |
| zuò cí : Digable Planets | |
| I' m blue mood y? all, I slive with jiva y? all | |
| I' m actually deep y? all, invented time y? all | |
| In ten fourths y? all, I pay your cap y? all | |
| I player late y? all and draw down to | |
| I bust raps y? all, in love with naps y? all | |
| The sweet beats kid, I speak my thoughts y? all | |
| I wreck the break y? all, don? t trust the flag y? all | |
| I dig the birds y? all, I' m layin' out now, yeah | |
| The season? s been good like a sweet | |
| I hang out with a gang out flat bush with cool beats | |
| I found the reverberated shout was goddamn | |
| And questions ' bout the methods how the Planets made jam | |
| Wallowed through a gang a murk in the interim | |
| I couple time we got jerked but still invented them | |
| Wicked little kinky joints that got us ghetto weight | |
| And also kept the jazz alive by pullin' off the plates | |
| Maybe only we was hip to stretchin' out the brain | |
| I felt Bird Parker when I shot it in my vein | |
| I toss these major losses on the Mingus jazzy strum | |
| Flip off into a nod and dig myself a dyin' young | |
| It? s like cool was the bop and the flair | |
| I kicks to my pools by the nap of their hair | |
| I' m pinnin' Uncle Sam for the death of swingin' quotes | |
| For losin' Bud Powell slidin' over Dizzy' s notes | |
| Was it that the rebirth was the birth for new shit, of cool shit | |
| The jazz power showers from the crew was sure legit | |
| But hey, present since gone Hank Mo' s gone | |
| They kill the coolest breeze in this land of the free | |
| And it been like that since they lied about they flag | |
| Like all my main mans gave they beats up for skags | |
| So I pops it at your crew like Bu I did a lid | |
| But I used Lee' s Cooker got my buzz around midnight | |
| I' m so shy y? all, I' m hip to badge y? all | |
| From sector six, yeah and now and then too | |
| I slows the trims y? all and fades a fake now | |
| I know the nat y? all I' m layin' out y? all, yeah | |
| The season? s been smooth like the suede | |
| Pumas that butter got when butter got paid | |
| Or better yet Dolphy' s archetypes for cool dudes | |
| Or better still Trane usin' space in afro blue | |
| It? s simple, swing be the freakin' of the time | |
| The spinnin' by the kings good for speakin' of the mind | |
| The forty seven sessions gave the buzzes that I caught | |
| They asked was it cool blues knowledge | |
| What you thought? | |
| I told ' em it was solid, dig, the licks was way out | |
| My baby loves to kiss when Ornette just lays out | |
| So the quotes be as such bout the kits, uh | |
| You down with Digable Planets yous a hipster, shit | |
| I lay it on the cats about monk | |
| The logical extensions comin' boomin' out that trunk | |
| Assumin' that the room in which you zooms designed by your mind | |
| Not the stars and stripes but red Cali? booms | |
| And the ratatattat by Max or Philly Joe on we go | |
| The fly shit y? all, we don? t quit y? all | |
| It? s slick beats here and it? s out there | |
| A smooth groove kid, the jive is high y? all | |
| We ain? t marks y? all okay pow me up | |
| Uh, the seasons been fat like some boom | |
| Doodlebug? s math jazz fillin' up the room | |
| When Booker jam with Eric at the funky five spot | |
| Jimmy Cob' s job was layin' crashes on the top | |
| Butter cop his lid at this little Harlem jam | |
| The tenor bop the middle and his shades and his tam | |
| I' m diggin' how these dudes made my buzz a little hipper | |
| And angles on the moves really couldn? t get no blacker | |
| I' m sinkin' deep to the sleekness of the horn | |
| I' m thinkin' take the hipness and just lay it in my form | |
| So when the hoodlums flood waitin' for another anthem | |
| I say it? s in the blood cause it notin' but rhythm | |
| And rhythm goes on and on to the break of moon, baby | |
| The dads is gone but they used to come lovely | |
| The sickness towards the world? s cause Sam caused the blues | |
| But hipness takes a swirl and jams by my crew | |
| Infect space y? all, we swing time y? all | |
| It? s like milk yeah, it? s like be bop | |
| The new scat slips, oh shit, we got fly kicks | |
| It? s like jazz, uh, it? s like us now |