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Every Night

from Talkin' Story by Angle

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about

Another hot one from the Dust Collectors. Angle in the groove, stomping the earth.

lyrics

Verse 1:
Some people, ask me where my muse comes from, how I’m the realest shit.
Ask me where an 800 pound gorilla sit.
Anywhere. For your benefit I’d pluck it from thin air
and masterpiece it together. Been legit since no chin hair.
And when I’m not, the bull in the china shop
I’ll slice a break precise from behind, like I got the garrote.
No end to the recent rash of goons.
I’ll Hulk smash them into Fatheads soon, stash them in my bedroom.
I get animalistic, tear the heart out and kiss it.
Wearing cannibal lipstick, sop the beat with a biscuit.
Lend me an ear, you risk it. I’ll beat it with explicit
monster creature features like slasher flicks that rip shit twisted.
I should call this spectacle The Kraken ‘cause when I release it
it’s tentacles death grasping the whole planet, contracting.
Break the English language like TI saying, “Whuhatnin?”
If no beat, I’d be rapping to testicles ass-slapping.
Chorus:
Two stomping on the beat, march 1-2.
Two stomping on the beat, march 1-2.

Two stomping on the beat, march 1-2.
Leave a logo bruise from the bottom of your shoes.
Verse 2:
Check out my melody. She’s pregnant mentally.
I suffer high infidelity, what she’s telling me.
Ya’ll just cheerleaders jocking. I’m the linebacker stalking
the quarterback. I tackle him in half and slobberknock him.
Then put my arm up to the elbow, up his torso.
He was a puppet before, now even more so.
Show no remorse for using force. My center’s run its course though.
I wear a winning face in front of fans like Lee Corso.
Soundtrack from porno. Superheroes, I endorse those.
They turn their back; I mark an “A” on ‘em like Zorro.
I’m credible, not popular; nonstop with more flows.
I’ll never see five mic fists, as far as the Source goes.
In fact, I’ll take an editor’s trash mag off the rack
and burn it for the lack of integrity sold for the highest stack.
The good guy, reverse that, dressed in all black.
And Bo don’t know jack, ‘cause Bo can’t middle finger smack.
Chorus Repeat (2x)
Well, what do you know, the Angle is first up to bat.
No batteries included, and no strings attached.
No holds barred. No time for move faking.
Gots to get the loot, so I can bring home the bacon.
- R.I.P. Phife Dawg

credits

from Talkin' Story, released October 14, 2016
Produced by the Dust Collectors.

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Angle Des Moines, Iowa

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