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Pack Up Lyrics
Man: Now we'd like to turn the pages back a little ways and do some of those great tunes of yesteryear, starting with a little...
[Note: lyrics from "If 6 was 9" by Jimi Hendrix]
White collar conservative
Flashin' down the street
Pointin' their plastic finger at me,
Hopin' soon my kind will drop and die
But I'm gonna wave my freak flag high
MC, MC
Sit back and learn
MC, MC
Sit back and learn
(Lyrics Born) got something to say
And it goes a little something like this (this, this)
From the gate what you know about rapping motherfucker
You can't even hold the microphone without it feedbacking
Since the days of speed rapping
I've been snapping cats' spinal bones
'barrass them in front of women take their little titles home
Bear in mind I come from an era in time
Where you actually had to have lyrics that rhyme
Let my baritone grind your insides, paralyze your cerebellum
Throw your reality out of alignment
Flip shit, on some pimp shit, on some rock shit
Some rap rock testosterone rip shit
Look inside every magazine you read about me
Got an excerpt, your sissy ass crew's afraid to say the fucking f-word
Tired of playing games, I don't know the password
How's about this: "Open up the damn cash drawer"
Throw the keys on the dashboard
Let the real players play this shit
Y'all can fucking red-shirt
[Chorus]
Pack up get started walking
Fall back now on your losses
You can't accomplish
But you want it plead no contest baby
Forfeit don't rock the call pit
Chalk this up as a conquest
Some things is sacred
I don't play with my stage or my audience
Smooth talking charismatic ass ill
Talk you lady outta bra
Honda hatchback hand-held y'all starved
And I'm dangling a shrimp by the fan tail
Whole audience about to fall over the handrail
I can't tell - is that rapping?
You sound like a fucking parrot just crash landed
Man this shit is ass backwards these days real crazy
I can count on one hand cats that's truly creative
And the rest is all get-along go-along guys
Happy not to get involved just along for the ride
No vision, no drive, spirit or wherewithal
You can get mad and stay mad at that I don't care at all
Huge pair of balls, keep 'em cool under a parasol
Paragon of my era like Cereborn [Note: Cereborn is an alternative pronunciation of Celeborn]
How many different kinda tracks have y'all heard me on
Exactly and I served them all
[Chorus]
I spent ten years in these godforsaken rap trenches
With small daily victories this shit's a game of inches
I sustained minor injuries scuffles with the missus
For the chance to make history I don't regret it for a minute
Seeing cats drop a small fortune on a plush ride (blau!)
Couple years later fools is upside down
Tell me what the fuck did you get in this game for
It's like a whole world of squirrels only one acorn
I don't usually like to take it back
But realistically if this was a different era
Y'all would fail miserably
Ghetto team I'm going in, let me down fifty feet
I never let this industry put me in the guillotine
Rappel down the skyscraper kicking in the plexiglass
Plastique on the safe boom blown to Leningrad
Stuff the cash and the formula in the fifty bag
Slide down the rope, twenty stories hail a taxi cab
[Chorus]
MC, MC
Sit back and learn
MC, MC
Sit back and learn
(Lyrics Born) got something to say
And it goes a little something like this (this, this, this, this)
White collar conservative
Flashin' down the street
Pointin' their plastic finger at me,
Hopin' soon my kind will drop and die
But I'm gonna wave my freak flag high
Sit back and learn
MC, MC
Sit back and learn
And it goes a little something like this (this, this)
You can't even hold the microphone without it feedbacking
Since the days of speed rapping
I've been snapping cats' spinal bones
'barrass them in front of women take their little titles home
Bear in mind I come from an era in time
Where you actually had to have lyrics that rhyme
Let my baritone grind your insides, paralyze your cerebellum
Throw your reality out of alignment
Flip shit, on some pimp shit, on some rock shit
Some rap rock testosterone rip shit
Look inside every magazine you read about me
Got an excerpt, your sissy ass crew's afraid to say the fucking f-word
Tired of playing games, I don't know the password
How's about this: "Open up the damn cash drawer"
Throw the keys on the dashboard
Let the real players play this shit
Y'all can fucking red-shirt
Pack up get started walking
Fall back now on your losses
You can't accomplish
But you want it plead no contest baby
Forfeit don't rock the call pit
Chalk this up as a conquest
Some things is sacred
I don't play with my stage or my audience
Talk you lady outta bra
Honda hatchback hand-held y'all starved
And I'm dangling a shrimp by the fan tail
Whole audience about to fall over the handrail
I can't tell - is that rapping?
You sound like a fucking parrot just crash landed
Man this shit is ass backwards these days real crazy
I can count on one hand cats that's truly creative
And the rest is all get-along go-along guys
Happy not to get involved just along for the ride
No vision, no drive, spirit or wherewithal
You can get mad and stay mad at that I don't care at all
Huge pair of balls, keep 'em cool under a parasol
Paragon of my era like Cereborn [Note: Cereborn is an alternative pronunciation of Celeborn]
How many different kinda tracks have y'all heard me on
Exactly and I served them all
With small daily victories this shit's a game of inches
I sustained minor injuries scuffles with the missus
For the chance to make history I don't regret it for a minute
Seeing cats drop a small fortune on a plush ride (blau!)
Couple years later fools is upside down
Tell me what the fuck did you get in this game for
It's like a whole world of squirrels only one acorn
I don't usually like to take it back
But realistically if this was a different era
Y'all would fail miserably
Ghetto team I'm going in, let me down fifty feet
I never let this industry put me in the guillotine
Rappel down the skyscraper kicking in the plexiglass
Plastique on the safe boom blown to Leningrad
Stuff the cash and the formula in the fifty bag
Slide down the rope, twenty stories hail a taxi cab
Sit back and learn
MC, MC
Sit back and learn
And it goes a little something like this (this, this, this, this)
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"Paragon of my era like Cereborn [Note: Cereborn is an alternative pronunciation of Celeborn]" This is so incredibly incorrect. Celeborn is pronounced Keleborn, and never Cereborn.
The Lyric should read "Paragon of my era like Sarah Vaughn."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Vaughan Info about who and what Sarah Vaughn was. Simple logic concludes that this is 1000% more accurate than a lord of the rings reference in the middle of a song about how new music has no soul.