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Correct Happiness ('s Unit Of Measurement) Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Busdriver
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Correct Happiness ('s Unit Of Measurement)
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Lyrics:
[Intro] Well you burst on the scene Already a legend The unwashed phenomenon The original vagabond You strayed into my arms Yeah I told this one guy that my record's name is Fear of a Black Tangent And he was kind of offended and he was like What like I can't be down cause I'm not a black guy I was like no it's not really like that it's just [Busdriver] Hit the switch, the DJ plays the fine dish and adjusts the high-pitch level Hint to miss, hand your girl the wine list, she smells of hibiscus pedals Whiff the grit, I show up with my rhyme clique, not in designer fit dress codes Get a wince, and they think we're timeless and starting singing along to our pirated down loads Admit the shit, I've never really been that social, most the times I'm disheveled Is this it?, since it's Fear of a Black Tangent, do I got to call white kids devils? It's the pits, or do I got to say nature's ovaries are bleeding at a poetry reading The kids are pissed, because the thoughts of an underground rap guy don't really go that way The kids are pissed, I think the mainstream vs. independent argument is so passé Pick my disc, thanks to my 10 stack-high cd duper, I'm an uneasy sleeper Get this, but a pacified TV viewer, read about me in a weekly reader Fix the myth, and he said I'm a hip-hop treaty breacher with my vivid tales I spend less time alienating my audience then I do trying to solicit sales So lick the dick, because the scene is more than bitches, brew, and stinky reefer It's a trip, all the pee-wee leaguers kiss rings on our pinky fingers We spit the hits, but why? I am meaningless product on a crowded shelf A shout for help, I simmer in my dilapidated glee Oh get an account with a popular hip-hop crew, pay the activation fee And buy a shirt, a hat, a pair of underwear, cuz that's your favorite emcee And I'm a spacey shoegazer who stares at Pluto, but I'll be a jiggy jigaboo Who goes through laser hair removal if it means that I could pay my rent and other bills [Chorus] I've got a point system that determines my happiness Its unit of measurement is your interest in my crappy shit Because I'm not dope, I'm not fresh, ideas are overshot and undersung What a dumb verse that is, I'm definitely not number one A verse drowning deep within my flooded lung A song dying deep in a pit of my blood and cum The kids don't want to listen, they just want to have some fucking fun Fit the niche, a Hollywood entertainer will take a Xanax like a chewing gum Hit and miss, they're in outlandish debt and their planned text is crude and dumb A business risk, you know having a quality end product should be the rule of thumb Fix the shit, but it's obvious the culture's been raped, it lies in a pool of cum Quit your shift, so I'm up early working while you're squatting in Pilates class Listening to Morning Becomes Eclectic and nodding to Johnny Cash A nigga's pissed, but I don't have the same reservations that a closet Nazi has But I'm as angst-ridden on Thanksgiving as you are When your favorite rapper gets dissed on an opinion-based site You're a hippie who don't know what chicken tastes like Telling me who to pattern my career after and who I'm sounding like Hey why don't take your self-absorbed ass and hop on your mountain bike And go start a cipher at your parent's summer home on the veranda Because you bite about 20 styles per stanza, but who cares Because I'm frustrated, my records don't sell, and I can't seem to book a decent gig And my indie label is understaffed, and these midi cables won't connect the drum pads To the PA system, and my deejay's missing, and I'm barely able to feed my kid And I hate my pad, I don't want to visit, I need to put new brake pads on my Honda Civic I need an office visit from a known producer to do a remix But it's hard to recoup when he's paid And I'm starting to shoot my screenplay on Martin Luther King Day So I'm basically over budget and quite screwed [Chorus] I've got a point system that determines my happiness Its unit of measurement is your interest in my crappy shit Because I'm not dope, I'm not fresh, ideas are overshot and undersung What a dumb verse that is, I'm definitely not number one A verse drowning deep within my flooded lung A song dying deep in a pit of my blood and cum The kids don't want to listen, they just want to have some fucking fun
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