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Do I dare anything personal?
A verse or two that's worth a whole universe
Of molecules, mooses (sic), and hair follicles
The Revolution happened
When you were rappin' in solitude
Nigger rich is a phrase I hear from the mouths of white dudes
Who sell weed and listen to the same songs as I do
That evil that friends do
That's true understanding or racist and cruel
I remember when I played DJ Shadow in high school
and Shelly said he's blacker than all of you
Silk shirt, stolen drug store gold necklaces
I was that gap-toothed goof at the dances
Showin' off his moves in front of the black kids
Or preaching OutKast at recess
A cracker or a nigga that think he a cracker
Or maybe just don't understand
I was embarrassed but proud
Then Beck came on the tape and Shelly cut out

Two turntables and a foot in your mouth
My sensibility's always been wild
From Hip Hop to Bach
I'm talkin' Johann Sebastian
I'm the son of a German Naval Captain
And cab driver
Grandpa Lew on slide trombone
Blowin' with Lionel Hampton
Mom's got the Brazilian Booty Beats smackin'
My other mom's part African
With the same passion
Cut from the same fabric
Full of my own soul and fat-lipped
Same the magic tricks for the road show
This is happenin'

Naked on the floor in front of the MacBook rappin'
To a catfish about how beautiful nature is
Soundin' like a guy in a drug experiment...
The answer is love
Over and over again
The answer is love
Over and over again
The answer is love
Over and over again...

Neither Native or American
Barely even Earth Man
Centaur in the sky
I can fly twice as high as Evil Knievel can
Done bustin' nuts in guts
I'm a born again Loverman
Shabba!
Yabba Dabba Hootie Hoooooo Man

Or whitey on the bright side of the moon again
But there's another set of boot prints
And some encampments on the North Ridge
Totem poles, an old crone and a spaceship
And the skull of a lunatic
Glowing in the cosmic fishiness
A rich source of vital images...

This is a song called Paul Simon Gaptooth
On my forthcoming album Baby Country
Hope you like
Short, African, White
Made some good music
Moves my soul all right
If that makes me a duck pigga
With a little curly tail
My ass ain't right
Nope
Everything's fine says my doctor by twilight
You'll never have to see me again in your life
I'm off the beat
Up late at night
Writing letters to Mike Eagle in rhyme form
I met him on the road en route to Saturn
We're like Q-Tip and Q-Tip livin' on different planets
Leaders mixed with followers
Separating the men from the mice
The rice from the quinoa
The Pinot blanc from the Free Stuff
Gucci creampuffs drinkin' Hennessy and Zimas
My neckbone's connected to my funny aha femur
There's goes Chevy Chase in the Zephyr
Up up
Up up into the ether

Fuck fuck the parking meter
It's pillow cars across the skyline
A good place to rest your head at nighttime
I write rhymes for woman and children
Who will never wear neckties
But got diamonds comin' out their behinds
It's a psychological phase
You gotta stomp through in Hammer pants
Dancing with Morticia in the moonlight
Spooky and ooky, doin' what the fuck I like
Then there's Mookie throwin' a trashcan
There's all this tension and fright
Hard feelings mixed with stereotypes
Brown avocados taste good
I don't even have to buy em
Survival of the fit
Homeless shelters to million dollar mansions
Back to pure air, black dirt and log cabins
Barbecues and die-hard Romantics
Kill the white noise and static
I wake up and go at it
Like Donald Duck on crack
Talkin' to a Mad Hawaiian
Pound for pound
Lick to center
Kiss on the lips, ass or wherever
This is New Paris weather we're having here
It's painful moving away from what I've known and been
Oregon Boy to Alano Kid
Skip Milan and Paris for Watts Towers and Croatia
Dig to China for a computer chip
'Cause it's a whole lot cheaper

Gonna break this Killer Bread and ditch The Reaper
Stop pushin' a mop at a preschool
I do it for the little weirdos
I am Wonder Woman
Music should be free to the people
You can't hear it on TV shows
Producers sucking off your frontal lobes
This is written with love and heart-encoded

I have so many identities which one's more important
Or who owes what to which friend?
They all inspire and support this antiwar veteran
Medicine Man in a time of ill-at-ease specimens
'Bout to go back to bed
Next to The Empress
And I'm levitating in the desert again...

Written by Big Papa Warrior
Paul Simon Nontooth lyrics by Exuma

credits

from Baby Country: To Further The Romantic Possibilities Of The Nation, released May 9, 2015
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Big Papa Warrior Portland, Oregon

Host of Cosmic Taco Beach Shack and co-host of Cosmic Taco Love Shack (with Cloudbabe).

Every Tuesday at 4 PM PST and Sunday at 3 PM PST on Shady Pines Radio.

Supa Emcee, Immortal Poet, DJ, writer, storyteller, collage artist, space cowboy, gangsta of love, outlaw rebel outcast, movie maker, dreamer, gentleman swordsman, romantic fool, who/what, human being
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