Brownie in Disguise.

90s rap, California, 90s lo-fi turntablism, jazzy hip-hop, funky-pop, danceable beats, chorstyle rap, scratch, flute, layered sample texture, bass boosted, female sultry voice, screaming smooth, 108bp

[Intro: [Acoustic slide guitar drones with a lo-fi beat, electric sitar hums, turntable scratches set a quirky vibe, flowing seamlessly into the verse]]

Pulling from the pulled pork stakes of wisdom 
Blasting from the terror-waves, full-fledged cis-dom  
A number on the hilltop, screaming California  
Burning from the earwax of still-framed porn yeah  (uh-huh, yeah)

[Verse: [Slide guitar chugs, turntablism scratches weave in, rap vocals flow seamlessly with a lazy drawl]]

I could be the one, like neo sniffing anthrax  
Conspiracy gone fad like a porta-potty tampax  
I could be the enemy if I weren't so elite  
It's the pocket full of nothing that you fear more than my dope beats  
Taking all the aims down the guns of the iron sights  
Forcing discount rhythms on a cancellation fire fight  
I could be a martyr if you crowned another pig in tights  
Ain't nothin' like a twerk-stained pigeon caught on mischief night  
Never gonna reason with the nail-biting hard-tops  
Taking more than giving more than reason-spilling lap-tops  
I could be here hearing all that you could never hose off  
Still I'm better reeling from my wisdom-toting flip-flops

[Chorus: [Droning electric sitar swells, funky beat kicks in, vocals chant with a smirk]]

Stall me and Call me a Brownie in Disguise  
Something outta nothing, just a nickel found in Five Guys  
Stall me and Call me a nugget 'tween the thighs  
Something outta nothing, just a tickle in my mind's eye.

[Bridge: [Electric sitar drones, beat slows slightly, vocals whisper with absurdity, extending the quirky narrative]]

Pocket full of nothing  
Hearing more than a beat box  
Counting cracks from checks stuffed in between the sidewalk  
Trading secrets with the lazy dogs sniffing dead fox  
Wearing socks with laces in a fickle diddy face-off 
Chasing ghosts in evening of her tight given spaces  
Now that I do think it you might think that's kind of race-ish
Drowning from the frowning while you're wire-walking chase-bent  
Total chaos stunning from the edge of your replacement
Melting into lip balm, taking in the reset
Now that you have chocolate in the middle of your sheet set

[Chorus: [Droning electric sitar swells, funky beat kicks in, vocals chant with a smirk]]

2463/7500

[Intro: [Acoustic slide guitar drones with a lo-fi beat, electric sitar hums, turntable scratches set a quirky vibe, flowing seamlessly into the verse]] Pulling from the pulled pork stakes of wisdom Blasting from the terror-waves, full-fledged cis-dom A number on the hilltop, screaming California Burning from the earwax of still-framed porn yeah (uh-huh, yeah) [Verse: [Slide guitar chugs, turntablism scratches weave in, rap vocals flow seamlessly with a lazy drawl]] I could be the one, like neo sniffing anthrax Conspiracy gone fad like a porta-potty tampax I could be the enemy if I weren't so elite It's the pocket full of nothing that you fear more than my dope beats Taking all the aims down the guns of the iron sights Forcing discount rhythms on a cancellation fire fight I could be a martyr if you crowned another pig in tights Ain't nothin' like a twerk-stained pigeon caught on mischief night Never gonna reason with the nail-biting hard-tops Taking more than giving more than reason-spilling lap-tops I could be here hearing all that you could never hose off Still I'm better reeling from my wisdom-toting flip-flops [Chorus: [Droning electric sitar swells, funky beat kicks in, vocals chant with a smirk]] Stall me and Call me a Brownie in Disguise Something outta nothing, just a nickel found in Five Guys Stall me and Call me a nugget 'tween the thighs Something outta nothing, just a tickle in my mind's eye. [Bridge: [Electric sitar drones, beat slows slightly, vocals whisper with absurdity, extending the quirky narrative]] Pocket full of nothing Hearing more than a beat box Counting cracks from checks stuffed in between the sidewalk Trading secrets with the lazy dogs sniffing dead fox Wearing socks with laces in a fickle diddy face-off Chasing ghosts in evening of her tight given spaces Now that I do think it you might think that's kind of race-ish Drowning from the frowning while you're wire-walking chase-bent Total chaos stunning from the edge of your replacement Melting into lip balm, taking in the reset Now that you have chocolate in the middle of your sheet set [Chorus: [Droning electric sitar swells, funky beat kicks in, vocals chant with a smirk]] Stall me and Call me a Brownie in Disguise Something outta nothing, just a nickel found in Five Guys Stall me and Call me a nugget 'tween the thighs Something outta nothing, just a tickle in my mind's eye.

0/500