I sprung for some Bushmill’s on this one to be thematically accurate to today’s subject, “Dance Cowboy”
Here’s the words:
Here we go again/ Bushmills on the rocks Kush up in the wind/ another venue full of single serving friends/ that’s the life I’m living ain’t no reason to pretend/ and I don’t want it to end/ so I ain’t gonna break man I barely even bend/ and I swear that I’ll extend this play to the very last second like Big Ben/ Ha Ha, that might have been chosen in poor preference/ punk rock pals all mad at the sports reference/ punk rock gals ask if I want more breakfast/ all the reason for me to act more reckless/ but the days turn into weeks turn into months turn into years/ and the squares turn into shots turn into blunts turn into beers/ so keep fronting I’m tackling frontiers/ y’all do what you want but I ain’t done here…
I don’t even know what to say/ on a song that doesn’t sound so cliche/ but if you ain’t with me than you’re in my way/ so please let that music play…
And I know how it goes man/ dance cowboy dance stay on your toes man/ ask me bad plan’s better then no plan/ but if I’m wrong then I guess I better go stand/ on the corner with a cardboard sign/ that says give me a quarter and I’ll spit you a rhyme/ but it’s a recession I’m lucky to get a dime/ it’s all penny’s and nickels but I stack ‘em up high/ the slow rise taking it one day at a time/ enjoy each lung of the ladder I climb/ gather the ingredients and bake my pie/ so I never have to wait in line to take my slice/ the down and dirty is I’m something that you’ve never seen/ I’m pushing 30 and still dressing like I’m seventeen/ you put the work in and you can achieve any dream/ and my purpose is certain put that on everything…
All I need is a solid night’s sleep/ and a girl that don’t trip over the jobs I don’t keep/ no room for slipping I’m already neck deep/ plus whatever dough I’m sitting on’s gone by next week/ but I’m cool in these old clothes they fit me plus/ I don’t need riches to live richly so/ you can call me wannabe redneck hippy/ but if I’m going out I’m taking Glen Beck with me/ oooh that’s a political statement/ like days when I used to only spit in my basement/ it was all so simple but it got complicated/ it’s crazy I’m wondering where all them days went/ no time for looking back/ Master P “Ghetto D” the closest I came to cooking crack/ full speed straight forward on a crooked track/ I guess that’s a wrap let’s bring the hook on back
Don’t try and read into this on too much… this is the party jam of the record… I really just wanted to make a fun song, I mean I reference a professional athlete for the first time in my career. This song is more about punchlines and flow but I had to sneak a few little gems of “conscious” stuff, lines like “I don’t need riches to live richly” or my Glenn Beck diss. The hook really describes the thrust of the song. I don’t really know what it takes to make the “new shit” but I’m going to do this old shit with style and craftsmanship so either support or jog on because this momentum is not letting up. I do have to make mention of the Master P reference, all I can say is that being a Southern rapper, and being subjected to the Souljah Toys and Roscoe Trashes of the world for a decade, one longs for the No Limit golden days.
until next time…