[Intro: Distant temple bell, dusty vinyl crackle, slow sitar phrase, then enormous Dhol drums crash in with distorted 808 sub-bass] [Vocal delivery: Deep theatrical baritone, backed by whispered crowd vocals] Ladies and gentlemen… Please secure your jewellery. Hide your aunties. And absolutely do not feed the Elephant Man. [Tabla roll accelerating] Welcome… to the Bollywood Bass Bazaar. [Elephant Man, deep confused voice]: (Mi only came fi samosa.) [DROP: Huge Dhol slam, 808 distortion, brass blast] [Verse 1: Deep rhythmic rap, tight pocket, playful swagger] Gold pon di jacket, dust pon di shoe, Whole street shaking when the bass come through, Shaman step in with the smoke and flame, Elephant behind him forgetting his name. Rickshaw bouncing like hydraulic chrome, Tabla start talking through the microphone, Sitar bend wicked while the low-end growl, Old man dancing with a Bengal fowl. Market shut down when the drumline pass, Chai start jumping from the cup too fast, One little goat run straight through the crowd, Nobody knows why — but the goat look proud. (Who invite di goat?!) [Pre-Chorus: Rising female Indian vocal ornamentation over accelerating Tabla] [Vocal delivery: Deep trio chant] Left foot! Right foot! Gold chain swing! Dhol drum! Bass drop! Mek everything ring! From Delhi rooftop to the underground, When the Shaman touch road— [Whisper]: Everybody get down. [Chorus: Dark, explosive Bollywood rap anthem, monstrous 808s, sinister gang vocals] Bollywood badman — whole place freeze, Shaman walk in and the crowd part clean, Gold in the smoke, black heart, no fear, Bassline growl when the darkness draw near. Elephant step and the whole floor tilt, Kings of the chaos, born from the filth, Red lights flash when the low-end attack, One way in — and there’s no way back. (MORE BASS!) [Instrumental Break: Wild sitar solo trading phrases with distorted synth bass, rapid Tabla fills and huge Dhol hits] [Verse 2: Faster double-time rap, deep aggressive delivery] Rickshaw swerving when the bassline bend, Sitar screaming like it lost its head, Chai cup jumping off the table in time, Whole market moving when we enter the rhyme. Shaman bring smoke, Elephant bring weight, Two mad kings coming straight through the gate, Tabla go crazy while the brass horns blow, Every shopkeeper yelling, “TURN UP SOME MORE!” Taxi man stop — Police man stare — Somebody launch confetti in the air, Twenty Dhol players marching in time, While the sitar player absolutely lose him mind. [Bridge: Everything suddenly cuts out except one Tabla and low tanpura drone] [Vocal delivery: Extremely serious whisper, absurdly dramatic] The ancient rhythm has awakened. [Temple bell] The bass has chosen its vessel. [Deep breathing] Unfortunately… [Pause] …it chose Elephant Man. [Massive Dhol fill] [FINAL DROP] [Chorus: Dark, explosive Bollywood rap anthem, monstrous 808s, sinister gang vocals] Bollywood badman — whole place freeze, Shaman walk in and the crowd part clean, Gold in the smoke, black heart, no fear, Bassline growl when the darkness draw near. Elephant step and the whole floor tilt, Kings of the chaos, born from the filth, Red lights flash when the low-end attack, One way in — and there’s no way back. Turn it up! Again! [Outro: Music gradually collapses into loose percussion, distant street ambience and exhausted breathing] [exhausted]: Who destroyed the market? [Silence] …di goat ? [Single sitar twang] [End]
