Somethingness Testo
Testo Somethingness
[Busdriver] Intro
-Now this…this Busdriver name. What exactly are you trying to say? Are you trying to say that you're reaching out to your fellow underclassmen, your fellow proletariat, you're trying to bring them into the light?
-I'm saying nothing.
-I mean now, when you mean nothing, you don't mean 'nothing'! You mean it in a kind of existential, nihilist, Nietzsche type of way? I mean, tell me what's going on. Explain to me, brother. Explain to me.
-Nothing.
What I was into was insurance and a dental plan.
But ladies and gentlemen, all they do is grow disease (or daisies, or day-zzz's) at a mental can.
Get a job!
Easy for you to say, you're a member in some rap group. But at least I stood for something. I'm a baby in a trash hoop who's good for nothing.
[Busdriver] :: Verse 1
Now, upon buying this album you've done three things: proven that you're a hippie counterculture sun chaser, and proven that you're unaware of your contribution to my fundraiser for me to rule the world, and you want to join the club? To get a renewal, you need a referral from a previous employer, but we know you're a schoolgirl who needs a devious lawyer to prove otherwise in a court of law. Get this nigga a sport's bra! But that's besides the point. You've also proven that mundane tasks to you are like slave labor, so you don't do nothing. If you were in grave danger your problem wouldn't prove sudden, and went inside to wake up early you at the alarm clock and the snooze button in. If you were stranded on a deserted island you would probably farm crops and stew food hunted. You inspected all the fun and you laugh. Thinking if things go according to plan in the song, you'll be subordinate in a tanning salon, wearing a white shirt, with cold air freezing, drinking soft drinks, yet dined first for no apparent reason. Well, what are your plans today? Well, I'm certainly not gonna do any of the house chores, but I think I'm gonna dabble and do up my dissertation that I'm gonna present to Al Gore, with an unpresentable mouth sore, about 'nothingness'.
[Radioinactive] :: Bridge
There's nothing…
Nothing that's better for enhancing the chance of being empty.
And it'll hold a certain mystic freedom.
And freedom is in a hole that people fall and die in.
[Radioinactive] :: Verse 2
Record full of nothing but a bebop, an amoeba auction, a hummus falafel, a dick in the H in the Haitian abated graffiti verbatim preventative medicine preventing hip nethers I get up in her venery heaven. Adam and Eve are having a meeting with a cat so…so soulful with a bowl-full of no, no, no, nothing…ever happens, here's a leather napkin. Running at a killer wildebeest in the wilderness of the Middle East and back to Italy to set this scene of nativity in the hills of Mississippi with a dollar-fifty and a bottle of whiskey and women with big Ds, some brisket, and a little piece of Feliz Navidad, you never had a dad, so Tenenbaum or MacDonald after Ramadan fast enough to catch me placing those splashes, vagabond. Don't be laughing, you David Hasslehoff in a castle box, Castlevania building pencils in Pennsylvania with the stencil stain you'll love. End of the verse, so hand me your purse. I'm the one that you will see at the Italian Hill near you. See, I like at the opera where a life is a death, and I see that…that death is near.
[Busdriver]
And on a basketball court backboard is the head of a deer!
[Busdriver et al.] :: Chorus
There's something I wanna tell ya
It's been eating me from inside out Let's pick up a ??? sometime soon.
And we'll talk.
Come close enough so I can whisper,
I've been meaning to tell you that
Oh shit I forgot what I was going to say-
Nevermind.
[Busdriver] :: Verse 3
Hear my tummy moan! Cuz I spit up all my vom, but you know I gotta get a muddy gnome from puppy cones, before they know these songs are full of absolute nothingness. And contrary to popular belief, our lucrative rate is in grass root cutting-ness, from CD duplicates burning I don't hatch bad news and a money clip. But I have a tumor, as seen of a baby's mother tit on the mammogram, a dozen mother ships plan to land, so I could melt the demand with heat-ray gun instead of going to midnight mass with DJ Run, or rich white trash sedatives house a plum substance in a pipe that announce me and cancer as husband and wife. But I think I'm gonna get a second opinion….(upon analysis finds there's nothing wrong)! I'll get a third opinion…(there's nothing wrong with you)! It's just that my words are swimming again. I'm drowning in my swim trunks doing cover songs with Alvin and the Chipmunks holding a thousand pistol grip pumps sounding "get crunk!" at your grandmother's house…doing nothing.
[Rhetoric] :: Verse 4
"Go back to Compton you dirty nigger, we don't sell watermelons here," is what I yell at the white folks on the way to gun show once a year. Nigga, some of my best friends are white, and I love mud sharks just the same. Except for the ones that come from African and got 'Johnson' for a last name. Darth Vader, Rhetoric, Earl Jones James. By the way, what's another word for shit-colored in German? Take a guess. Melanin you illiterate knuckledragging ethnic ??? two-fifths of a person, civil servant…welfare undeserving, never own a suburban home. I hope they raise the rent so high the crack money you make couldn't buy you better property curbside. In the game of monopoly you would advance to Run (not Boardwalk). You hide as her pitch-white map cuz your cornfed pig wife gave you penis-envy over the pony in the barn. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Bestialty porn (I don't watch it). Defecation porn (I don't watch it). Shit-face drunk from cow-tipping last night, your version of crackery is reminiscing on an umbilical cord before you had to pay for the rock and hit the glass pipe. Yeah, let's talk about civil rights. A 'spic straight from the chop-shop put together wrong. If ever there was a Mexican Transformer he would be a lowrider named 'Wetbacktron'. Con artists hit the stopwatch and let's play a barb wire game of turntable hopscotch in the form of a swastika.
[Busdriver et al.] :: Chorus
There's something I wanna tell ya
It's been eating me from inside out
Let's pick up a ??? sometime soon.
Family time. (???)
Come close enough so I can whisper,
I've been meaning to tell you that
Oh shit I forgot what I was going to say-
Nevermind.
[Busdriver]
What I was into was insurance and a dental plan.
But ladies and gentlemen, all they do is grow disease (or daisies, or day-zzz's) at a mental can.
Get a job!
Easy for you to say, you're a member in some rap group.
But at least I stood for something. I'm a baby in a trash hoop who's good for nothing.
-Now this…this Busdriver name. What exactly are you trying to say? Are you trying to say that you're reaching out to your fellow underclassmen, your fellow proletariat, you're trying to bring them into the light?
-I'm saying nothing.
-I mean now, when you mean nothing, you don't mean 'nothing'! You mean it in a kind of existential, nihilist, Nietzsche type of way? I mean, tell me what's going on. Explain to me, brother. Explain to me.
-Nothing.
What I was into was insurance and a dental plan.
But ladies and gentlemen, all they do is grow disease (or daisies, or day-zzz's) at a mental can.
Get a job!
Easy for you to say, you're a member in some rap group. But at least I stood for something. I'm a baby in a trash hoop who's good for nothing.
[Busdriver] :: Verse 1
Now, upon buying this album you've done three things: proven that you're a hippie counterculture sun chaser, and proven that you're unaware of your contribution to my fundraiser for me to rule the world, and you want to join the club? To get a renewal, you need a referral from a previous employer, but we know you're a schoolgirl who needs a devious lawyer to prove otherwise in a court of law. Get this nigga a sport's bra! But that's besides the point. You've also proven that mundane tasks to you are like slave labor, so you don't do nothing. If you were in grave danger your problem wouldn't prove sudden, and went inside to wake up early you at the alarm clock and the snooze button in. If you were stranded on a deserted island you would probably farm crops and stew food hunted. You inspected all the fun and you laugh. Thinking if things go according to plan in the song, you'll be subordinate in a tanning salon, wearing a white shirt, with cold air freezing, drinking soft drinks, yet dined first for no apparent reason. Well, what are your plans today? Well, I'm certainly not gonna do any of the house chores, but I think I'm gonna dabble and do up my dissertation that I'm gonna present to Al Gore, with an unpresentable mouth sore, about 'nothingness'.
[Radioinactive] :: Bridge
There's nothing…
Nothing that's better for enhancing the chance of being empty.
And it'll hold a certain mystic freedom.
And freedom is in a hole that people fall and die in.
[Radioinactive] :: Verse 2
Record full of nothing but a bebop, an amoeba auction, a hummus falafel, a dick in the H in the Haitian abated graffiti verbatim preventative medicine preventing hip nethers I get up in her venery heaven. Adam and Eve are having a meeting with a cat so…so soulful with a bowl-full of no, no, no, nothing…ever happens, here's a leather napkin. Running at a killer wildebeest in the wilderness of the Middle East and back to Italy to set this scene of nativity in the hills of Mississippi with a dollar-fifty and a bottle of whiskey and women with big Ds, some brisket, and a little piece of Feliz Navidad, you never had a dad, so Tenenbaum or MacDonald after Ramadan fast enough to catch me placing those splashes, vagabond. Don't be laughing, you David Hasslehoff in a castle box, Castlevania building pencils in Pennsylvania with the stencil stain you'll love. End of the verse, so hand me your purse. I'm the one that you will see at the Italian Hill near you. See, I like at the opera where a life is a death, and I see that…that death is near.
[Busdriver]
And on a basketball court backboard is the head of a deer!
[Busdriver et al.] :: Chorus
There's something I wanna tell ya
It's been eating me from inside out Let's pick up a ??? sometime soon.
And we'll talk.
Come close enough so I can whisper,
I've been meaning to tell you that
Oh shit I forgot what I was going to say-
Nevermind.
[Busdriver] :: Verse 3
Hear my tummy moan! Cuz I spit up all my vom, but you know I gotta get a muddy gnome from puppy cones, before they know these songs are full of absolute nothingness. And contrary to popular belief, our lucrative rate is in grass root cutting-ness, from CD duplicates burning I don't hatch bad news and a money clip. But I have a tumor, as seen of a baby's mother tit on the mammogram, a dozen mother ships plan to land, so I could melt the demand with heat-ray gun instead of going to midnight mass with DJ Run, or rich white trash sedatives house a plum substance in a pipe that announce me and cancer as husband and wife. But I think I'm gonna get a second opinion….(upon analysis finds there's nothing wrong)! I'll get a third opinion…(there's nothing wrong with you)! It's just that my words are swimming again. I'm drowning in my swim trunks doing cover songs with Alvin and the Chipmunks holding a thousand pistol grip pumps sounding "get crunk!" at your grandmother's house…doing nothing.
[Rhetoric] :: Verse 4
"Go back to Compton you dirty nigger, we don't sell watermelons here," is what I yell at the white folks on the way to gun show once a year. Nigga, some of my best friends are white, and I love mud sharks just the same. Except for the ones that come from African and got 'Johnson' for a last name. Darth Vader, Rhetoric, Earl Jones James. By the way, what's another word for shit-colored in German? Take a guess. Melanin you illiterate knuckledragging ethnic ??? two-fifths of a person, civil servant…welfare undeserving, never own a suburban home. I hope they raise the rent so high the crack money you make couldn't buy you better property curbside. In the game of monopoly you would advance to Run (not Boardwalk). You hide as her pitch-white map cuz your cornfed pig wife gave you penis-envy over the pony in the barn. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Bestialty porn (I don't watch it). Defecation porn (I don't watch it). Shit-face drunk from cow-tipping last night, your version of crackery is reminiscing on an umbilical cord before you had to pay for the rock and hit the glass pipe. Yeah, let's talk about civil rights. A 'spic straight from the chop-shop put together wrong. If ever there was a Mexican Transformer he would be a lowrider named 'Wetbacktron'. Con artists hit the stopwatch and let's play a barb wire game of turntable hopscotch in the form of a swastika.
[Busdriver et al.] :: Chorus
There's something I wanna tell ya
It's been eating me from inside out
Let's pick up a ??? sometime soon.
Family time. (???)
Come close enough so I can whisper,
I've been meaning to tell you that
Oh shit I forgot what I was going to say-
Nevermind.
[Busdriver]
What I was into was insurance and a dental plan.
But ladies and gentlemen, all they do is grow disease (or daisies, or day-zzz's) at a mental can.
Get a job!
Easy for you to say, you're a member in some rap group.
But at least I stood for something. I'm a baby in a trash hoop who's good for nothing.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
