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letra de unemployed black astronaut (nobody remix) - busdriver

i am the first black astronaut
to walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
i am the first black astronaut
to walk the bare moon… (or possibly, one of the great all-time bus-drivers.)

it’s the resurgence of the happy black rappers
but our african medallions are handicap placards
i am alphabetized in the “modernized retro”
and my press photos are wallet sized. my rent’s low
why don’t you shape me? i’m malleable flesh and putty
and a salad bowl with ??? dressing
and -ssimilated into urban fuel testing
dress and doggy are coveted by a s-xy bunny
afraid i’ll add her to my burlesque show
who’s slipping the ring finger of the lead singer ??? fresh bowl
all the b-tches rule with bee stingers but i’m refreshed though
it’s home of the black speed reader
perplexed or blurb stretched
dude suggests that i’m sp-cy but the bird’s nest is low
which means i’m commonplace
til the boy and me traveled the country in wooden sp-ceships
on the phone cursing at de-booking agents
i wield words and pilfer the country with the underground who’s-who
but i feel like i’ve been sodomized with a billiards pool cue

i am the first black astronaut
to walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
pound my beliefs into the desired shape
and put them sound asleep in the fireplace
i am the first black astronaut
to walk the bare moon, from my air balloon
pound my beliefs into the desired shape
and put them sound asleep in the fireplace

it’s the return of the all popular dope rappers
who retreat through holes in the sky, climbing up rope-ladders
and i will sell you a silver disc soaked in laughter
cause you’ve been brainwashed. out of your ears leaks soap lather
why don’t you deify me? i’m buckaroo banzai
don’t know what to do, i’m the wrong guy
i touch crews like krush groove on dvd
and i kinda started doing songs with cve?
but now you’re like (chillin’ villain who? project what?)
persona non grata with the wrist-band in front of popsicle stick man
he’s a wall of hot lava. drip crayons on your clipped glands
so i found the top dollar. twist trends to enrich fans
but there’s not a lotta offers that give grants to kitsch bands
and i water lawns for the add d&d role-players
and we got along, so we formed a commonwealth
and you hear me through random sightings and file-sharing
and you tell me that song writing’s like child bearing
no it’s not, it’s self indulgence
elven culprits watch their egos melt in charcoal pits

oh my. sorry i left my acceptance speech in the back of the private car
and i re-wrote the hollywood ending, fluxed the motion-picture screen
made it so the black guy doesn’t die by the opening scene
oh my. sorry i left my acceptance speech in the back of the private car
and i re-wrote the hollywood ending, fluxed the motion-picture screen
made it so the black guy doesn’t die by the opening scene

yeah! this is the climate of cathartic writer
that enables whos-who in the market they lifer
i’ve been out-sold and my styles are old and lame
i’ll spark a lighter to the carpet fiber ’cause i’m not a household name

i’m a tax write-off, i signed a deal with no exit clause
my label’s like ms. santa clause on menopause, so i’m banging on padded walls
so i’m trying to make hits, but i keep hitting pop flies
i don’t eat out any more, i’m thawing chicken pot pies
but i used to be in the list of the top five
fresh hip-hop guys

- busdriver

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