"These Monitors Are Frigid"



These monitors are frigid
So timid it sounds liquidated when I kick it
A flicker quick to gray it seems like twilight’s tinted
Symptomatic for a minute but I stay resistant
So there’s this:
I may not be as young as I once was
but this dub bus rides a front rush like it’s lifted
I bomb facts, ignore your quips and gaffes
Drift past these hip cats who have to just sit and laugh
Why you gotta wear jeans when the weather’s nice?
You get your indie card pulled if your legs see light?
I used to rock shorts till Christmas vacay
With ’89 Flights and a bowl cut fake fade
Playing K-Tel tapes of Dana Dane
Watching Danny Ainge shoot J’s on the parquet
Sticks Downey and the grip is Wockenfuss
The kid after school knockin’ out the chalk dust
Lost touch? No, I found some middle ground
Back to the lab pounding out a little sound
I still got it like my name was Ralph Malph
Filled with the clout of the sound that I drown out
Found out, it was bound to happen
I got ink on my fingers, Talik
Hand me a napkin

I’ll be the all-consumer like Velocity Girl
In between James Jones like my name is Earl
I’m with (Sticks Downey) and they’re down to brow beat
Rowdy feet like they wanna surround me
So pipe up, ‘cause my rhymes they might just
Smolder sheets of paper, turn ‘em into white dust
I’ve made cuts like Bruti with shears in hand
Holding up the remnants, showing all the cheering fans
A grappler-and for my finishing move
I’ll be like Big Scoob when I show and prove
So strap on your hipster pants and waddle around
Before Hot Topic trademarks that maudlin frown
Would you call it a sidewinder? A blow to the scene?
When your eyeliner crusted up your cell phone keys?
Let’s break ice like this (so sick of flailing)
Let’s make nice like kids (hear what I’m saying?)
Unpredictable on time, we canvas the area
Cylindrical mop-top like John Candeleria
Super sinister beat nice, the motion is steady
I’m bullying MCs like Eddie Pinetti
So parry the merriment, assign with a slight jab
Tighten up the left, I align with a right hand
Growing a beard, I’ll end up like Billy Gibbons
Or comb my hair over like I was Gerald Tibbons
The man with the pasture park The man with the gas to spark
Up late watching tapes of Bohemia Afterdark

So I’ll be playing dirty like a camp of rich kids
Fooling you all like Plimpton did with Sidd Finch
Call it a warm up ‘cause I’m just getting stretched out
And lest you forget why all competitors went south
I’ll play the Iron Sheik and let the people decide
While my mind is like a chasm flowing deep and wide
So like Kirk Gibson when he’s hobbled and limping
I still got a few good cuts left in me
Forget the brass tacks, let’s get down to hard nails
I’m cleaning out my mind and you found the yard sale
Kick off your shoes and relax your mainframe
I’m filling in the blanks like Dawson did on Match Game