deepundergroundpoetry.com
Dubbin' pon Discipline
Back in the day
A Reggae bass player by trade
My Frontman sang like Young Nesta Marley
His wailin’ guitar mimicked Jimi
for resources, press, weed never lacking
fortunate enough to have financial backing
we rented an office in mid-town Manhattan
An address with cache’ to hang our Label on
WE weren’t backed by some old investor
we were fed big bucks from one of our peers
Sometimes our benefactor and I rubbed shoulders
I finally asked how he made all those dollars
Turns out he was a baseball card maven
He developed a standardized grading system
which caught fire cause it made collectors secure
When droppin’ hard earned thousands on ancient cardboard
how he got cash for THAT noble venture
Still conspires occasional nightmares
To him it was business, strictly a means
but within me it still resonates obscene
He worked at a precious metal refinery
created gold bars by meltin down jewelry
On Wednesdays he had a special task
trucked gallons of fodder obtained from the warehouse
As he pried open the giant containers
He dreamt how he`d make his spacey band famous
donning a mask as he poured out the contents
Popcorn sounds as they rolled toward refinement
Hundreds pon thousands of dead human's teeth
Some stained yellow, some nice and clean
Some solid crunk, dope hip-hop blingin
Most just from normal cavity filling
They made sick noise when pot bottom bunched
Crackled like Green Giant eatin' Cap Crunch
some were yanked out, some were punched
win mind over matter, or swift loss of lunch
Our producer turned on incredible heat
ingrediants melted at different speeds
As each substance reached its liquid degree
They`d steam hells lava through separate cubbies
precious metals technologically parted
platinum, gold and silver harvested
hot wealth oozed into templates for bars
smelted human bone shamefully discarded
JAH, Peace, Love , Herb, Rootsy sounds
Holy reasons draw you to reggae bands
This curve wasn’t tipped, we’d have never made plans
dubbin' pon discipline of fascist Deutschland
A Reggae bass player by trade
My Frontman sang like Young Nesta Marley
His wailin’ guitar mimicked Jimi
for resources, press, weed never lacking
fortunate enough to have financial backing
we rented an office in mid-town Manhattan
An address with cache’ to hang our Label on
WE weren’t backed by some old investor
we were fed big bucks from one of our peers
Sometimes our benefactor and I rubbed shoulders
I finally asked how he made all those dollars
Turns out he was a baseball card maven
He developed a standardized grading system
which caught fire cause it made collectors secure
When droppin’ hard earned thousands on ancient cardboard
how he got cash for THAT noble venture
Still conspires occasional nightmares
To him it was business, strictly a means
but within me it still resonates obscene
He worked at a precious metal refinery
created gold bars by meltin down jewelry
On Wednesdays he had a special task
trucked gallons of fodder obtained from the warehouse
As he pried open the giant containers
He dreamt how he`d make his spacey band famous
donning a mask as he poured out the contents
Popcorn sounds as they rolled toward refinement
Hundreds pon thousands of dead human's teeth
Some stained yellow, some nice and clean
Some solid crunk, dope hip-hop blingin
Most just from normal cavity filling
They made sick noise when pot bottom bunched
Crackled like Green Giant eatin' Cap Crunch
some were yanked out, some were punched
win mind over matter, or swift loss of lunch
Our producer turned on incredible heat
ingrediants melted at different speeds
As each substance reached its liquid degree
They`d steam hells lava through separate cubbies
precious metals technologically parted
platinum, gold and silver harvested
hot wealth oozed into templates for bars
smelted human bone shamefully discarded
JAH, Peace, Love , Herb, Rootsy sounds
Holy reasons draw you to reggae bands
This curve wasn’t tipped, we’d have never made plans
dubbin' pon discipline of fascist Deutschland
Published 26th Jul 2012
| Edited 9th Sep 2012
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26th Jul 2012 10:06am
26th Jul 2012 11:06am
Anonymous
26th Jul 2012 9:44pm
The armband is "killer mon"...nice write drivel.
Strider :)
Strider :)
26th Jul 2012 10:31pm
