Reminisce on this fun ride through a revolving door of classic hip hop basslines, played by long-time Angle collaborator and talented musician J8. This one was born from a few alcohol-fueled sessions. Blastees were had and you can hear it. Angle and the Hench Mob is Jackin’ for Bass! Respect to Ice Cube.
lyrics
Verse 1:
Memory bears fruit. Sip the juice on these loops.
Maniac on the loose, Talkin’ Story like Seuss.
Jackin’ for a eight of that bass, to give a little taste.
Take these licks for days, and find your little happy place.
Air out your gas face and bob for an apple.
Jam out in your car and drive like an asshole.
Nonsensical comic rhetoric. Your mommy sent you to collect my intellectual sentiment.
Bass buggin’, OGs thuggin’, obese fuggin’, no mean muggin’
“Oh please. You’re frontin’” Oh please, nothin’.
You’re Buggin’ Out. I’m floating like gravity. Don’t be mad at me.
By the way, tell your family, thanks for having me.
Sadly, that’ll be, the day you out the tragedy.
Something happened way back and I’m proud to be your daddy see.
Magically, I planted seed. Your mind was open sesame.
You’re matching me, but wacker see, the people know the pedigree.
Discrepancy, resides in that pool where you left the better genes.
Dive in. You’ll see my tribe is amping like amphetamines.
Yah! Here is something you can’t understand.
Yah! On the hill and these killers got other plans.
Yah! Only digging the twerk-off done at a show.
Nah! Don’t need the dick taking his shirt off. Come at me bro!
What?! You drain my gray matter, the brain scatter.
That lame chatter, splatter, and spit pancake batter.
Fracture the method actor. Increase the pucker factor,
When shatter the crystal chin of a sneak diss retractor.
Verse 2:
A beautiful mind, even when Color Blind designs.
Unusual signs, winding like snake spines.
Paralyze, your pair of eyes with a pair of lies.
It’s all fine. Wear a disguise and ride the basslines.
Ice cold, the veins running vampiric. And then it,
might blow. The rain’s coming. Can you hear it? It’s at your,
door knocking. The shower pattern that leave you clean. Got your,
smile locked in, like jack-o-lanterns at Halloween.
What you got following is gobbling bottles of hollerin’.
Off with the halogen, dropped college and shot the collagen.
Modeling for waste oxygen, false in your confidence.
Obnoxious in fashion and all of us suffer the consequence.
Jekylls with pride died inside and turned to Mr. Hyde.
The amps fried easy, turned the Dr. to a Beastie.
Wil’ out and grimace. Snap your m’f’n vertebrae.
Iowan bidness, black and gold, repping the birds of prey.
Since before the ninety-tre, gave way to the mighty A,
The Andy’s Whitey way, is like Gladys Knight and the Morris Day.
To more you pay, the chorus play. Fuck what an Aphrodite say.
Twerking at a siren bay, and murking y’all with fiery lays.
Circle back, admire the blaze. Today’s a Circue du Solei.
Jerks are blind anyway. My work so bright, you’re eyes’ll glaze.
Church, I invite you to pray. Stop robbing the offering tray.
Drop a dime when dime’s drop. You’re copping and rocking the mockingjays.
credits
from Cygnus Opus,
released June 15, 2018
Produced by Angle & the Dust Collectors.
Bass by J8.
Drums by Aeon Grey.
North Carolina MC Big Pooh tells it like it is, detail for gritty detail, aided by L'Orange, Steve Roxx, and Apollo Brown. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 24, 2015
