paroles de chanson What's That Sound? - Promoe

Fuck a sampler,
I rhyme to the rhythm of my punchlines beating your ear
Drum
Creating sublime subliminal rhythms synchronized to how I feel son
Livin' to the rhythm of time
Life: the composition composed of minutes, seconds, deacades, years
Millenniums
Alternating and creating the symphony
Played by the sound of the morning train
Galloping to work
The sound of a global choir of women givin' birth
The sound of the child molesting
Priest breathing hard in the back of the
Church
The sound of the lost youth getting back at mother earth
The sound of capitalistic blood thirst.
We stand around rapping over the sound
Of the police
Rappin' over the sound of no justice no
Peace. A troublesome couple sons rappin'
Over urban jungle drums
Stickin' to the bubble gum.
Rappin' over the thumping beat of an army of feet
Invading their neighbouring country
Forcing 'em to retreat. Rappin' over the
Sound of my girl's talkin' in her sleep
And the sound of skulls getting crushed on concrete
This is to my sons in the streets on the run from police
Headphones and car seats pumpin'
These beats. Yo the stage setting: we on a
Highway heading east
Through the world's dead end streets.
We're like seven deep at the speed of a
Spreading virus
Out of control like forest fires. Rappin' thrue mike wires
Rappin' over beats or rappin' over silence. It's all music anyway
We rap over the sounds of cash registers, or without getting any pay
Fuck a deejay I rhyme to the rhythm
Of my razor tongue cutting your ear wax
Playin' the rhythm of decision over
My heart beat and the noise of Air Max
Runnin' from Jimi Hendrix machine gunnin', fear
Makes it hard to hear my heart
Beating. Deafened by the primate inside of me
Screaming
There's more rhythms to listen to more melodies
But when the day is over the harmony is off key. Loop that sample!
Sshh... I'm vibin' to mother earth's menstrual cycle.
I looked right and left got swept away
By the sound wave to which I'm a damn
Slave. Runnin' thrue physically illegal
Environments
Dissecting drum sets,
Fragments of sweaty recording sets. The battle between
Destruction and construction, silence and noise
Girl versus boy.
Plastic card versus coin is occupying my mind while the silent
Wind of truth is runnin' thrue body
And soul. The friction between needle and
Wax is removing the cold
And it's the source of life.
Of this entire empire where the landscape is the
Soundscape
Which is one with the mind state.
The state on the other side of the babylonian
Valley
I stand on the mountain of love with
The fist in the air. The air I'm breathin'
The truth I'm retreavin', the chambers of my heart I'm revealin'
Every scar and bruise is healin'.
...When me and Black Fist master the
Art of music stealin'. Rap over the cry of
The people with the slide of a needle
Rockin' over two turntables over the
Rockin' of a cradle. And the soft singin'
Of a mother's soothing voice
Your drunk parents arguing makin'
Noise. And your grandfather's whistling the
Grim Reaper's whispering
Slow ballads of death and he'll make
Sure that you're listening. The rimshot to
The gunshot, gunclap to the handclap
Footstep to the footchain,
Fingersnap to the neck snap. We got a text that will
Break all bounds
Though these words ain't noting but sounds.