| Lithermans Load | |
| "Reel It In" | |
| Reel It In I’m draggin wagons, and emptien flagons. Tempo is never laggin, Kenpo, I’m slayin dragons. You’re brown baggin your eats, Like school-house rocks. I’m toe taggin on beats, like mis-matched socks. You mockin it, but then you’re in line, just like the cinema. I’m lock-stockin it, ever divine, but then I’m in ‘em, uh! Lift up my chin, and uh! Get platters spinnin, uh! I’m prize winnin, the crowd, they keep on grinning, uh! A saint who’s sinnin, like Michael, I’m guardian’in. Pin’ups I’m pinnin, Stefani, I’m Gwinn’in. I got my picture in the folio, foolio, hangin with Julio, Bangin it old schoolio, like suh-suh-suh-sudio. Like Phil Collins, somethin’s comin in the air tonight. I’m minstral’lin, I’m strummin and it’s feelin alright. I’m sealin it tight, Zip-lockin beats like Rhythm Retreats, We’re givin receipts to anyone who’s still in their seats. (chorus) So here we go, lightin off the fuse again, Oh, no, another load from the Lithermen. And you know I leave the hook just dangelin’, Reel it in, Reel it in, Reel it in, Reel it in. So here we go, lightin off the fuse again, Oh, no, another load from the Lithermen. And you know I leave the hook just dangelin’, Reel it in, Reel it in, Reel it in, Reel it in. Down Under, they say The Load is idiosyncratic, Cracklin with static, there’s bats up in my attic. Don’t panic – I got meds, if you get manic, Your heart slams quick, while I’m sippin on a lambic. I used to pack a knapsack, but never a back pack, This cracka can track back to the rappers before crack. …I made it big, I’m kickin it with wickit big wigs, At shin-digs, always all up on them thing-a-ma-jigs. A bag full of twigs, the dope the radio gives, Fit me in-between Brit-in-nee and Mister P-Didds. I’m spittin out a litany of shit that I did, While you’re trippin cause I’m whiter than the rock they call kid. Understand, I’m the man with the plan, Since the show I ran when it all began. Catchin my breath after verbal marathons that I ran, Out-stretchin death in my reach from studio to fan. (chorus) So here we go, lightin off the fuse again, Oh, no, another load from the Lithermen. And you know I leave the hook just dangelin’, Reel it in, Reel it in, Reel it in, Reel it in. So here we go, lightin off the fuse again, Oh, no, another load from the Lithermen. And you know I leave the hook just dangelin’, Reel it in, Reel it in, Reel it in, Reel it in. (bridge) (‘White boy day” true romance, got it, sample) Everybody stop, as we bring it down to nothin but synth, The vocals finer than the leather that they make in Corinth, Empire of the Corner Stone, it serves as my plinth On fire, like a sugar cube on top of Absinthe,. I got more metaphors than the Lord of the Flies, I’ll bonk you with a conch right in between the eyes. The size of my ideas: immense, but I’m mentally Off to the side, but I glide so gen-till-ey So mind your manners, even if it seems I’m mild-mannered, You’re screwed and hammered if my mind gets wild, like David Banner. Cause I’m green, and I’m jumpin on the trampoline, Clap your hands, as my cracker plays the tambourine. The beat’s clean and dirty, with a big, fat bottom. Doc rocks the box; need the trax – he gott’em. You could spot him: he the freak in between the Techniques, And his steeze will make your girlie wanna give him a piece! Watch me, pleace, you know I’m slick like bacon grease, Trousers creased, you know I got my monologue piece. Cease and desist, Cause when I got the mic in my fist, I be so thorough, just like Santa when he’s checkin his lis |
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