Thirteen-Eight over a Tenner

math rock, grime 2-step, UK garage, odd-time technical fingerstyle

[Intro]
[Complex acoustic guitar tapping in thirteen-eight time]
(Yeah)
(It’s technical, innit?)
(Safe)
[2-step Garage beat kicks in with a heavy sub-bass wobble]

[Verse 1]
I’m a lyrical genius in a skip-find chair
Playing polyrhythms while I pull out my hair
Got a Takamine guitar I stole from a school
Playing seven-eight timing like a total fool
I was at the Royal College till they kicked me out
For showing the Dean what a "shocker" was about
Now I’m tapping on the fretboard, fast and clean
While smoking a cigarette behind a vending machine
(He’s a prodigy, mate!)
I can play in thirteen-eight while I’m eating a kebab
And calculate the distance to the local rehab

[Chorus]
(He’s doing math rock in a tracksuit!)
Wonky basslines and a complex riff
Smelling like a basement and a herbal whiff
It’s inappropriate, explicit, and slightly wrong
The most technical chav in the world, come along!
(High-speed fingering!)

[Verse 2]
I met a posh girl in a coffee shop, see
She said, "Play me some jazz," I said, "Listen to me"
I started tapping out a rhythm like a machine gun
While describing my weekend having illegal fun
I told her about the time I tried to rob a Greggs
With a pair of pantyhose pulled over my legs
But I tripped on the mat because my timing was off
And ended up sneezing with a phlegmy old cough
(Disgusting!)
She said, "That’s not jazz," I said, "No, it’s math"
Then I showed her my sovereign rings in the bath

[Bridge]
[Beat shifts into a frantic double-time Grime section]
[Acoustic guitar goes into a dizzying, percussive harmonic solo]
(Check the time signature!)
(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... I lost count!)
(Safe!)

[Verse 3]
My nan thinks I’m a star, she bought me a plectrum
But I’m playing with my toes across the whole spectrum
I’m satirizing the government and the price of milk
While wearing a tracksuit made of synthetic silk
I’m a virtuoso, a legend, a total disgrace
Playing five-four rhythms in your ugly face
I’ll sell you a stolen mountain bike for Forty Two Pounds
And play a diminished scale that’ll stun the hounds

[Outro]
[Acoustic guitar tapping fades out into a deep, distorted 2-step bass rumble]
(Yeah)
(Thirteen-eight, mate)
(Prime numbers)
(Do you want to buy a catalytic converter? It’s basically new)
(Safe)
[Final percussive slap on guitar body]

2544/7500

[Intro] [Complex acoustic guitar tapping in thirteen-eight time] (Yeah) (It’s technical, innit?) (Safe) [2-step Garage beat kicks in with a heavy sub-bass wobble] [Verse 1] I’m a lyrical genius in a skip-find chair Playing polyrhythms while I pull out my hair Got a Takamine guitar I stole from a school Playing seven-eight timing like a total fool I was at the Royal College till they kicked me out For showing the Dean what a "shocker" was about Now I’m tapping on the fretboard, fast and clean While smoking a cigarette behind a vending machine (He’s a prodigy, mate!) I can play in thirteen-eight while I’m eating a kebab And calculate the distance to the local rehab [Chorus] (He’s doing math rock in a tracksuit!) Wonky basslines and a complex riff Smelling like a basement and a herbal whiff It’s inappropriate, explicit, and slightly wrong The most technical chav in the world, come along! (High-speed fingering!) [Verse 2] I met a posh girl in a coffee shop, see She said, "Play me some jazz," I said, "Listen to me" I started tapping out a rhythm like a machine gun While describing my weekend having illegal fun I told her about the time I tried to rob a Greggs With a pair of pantyhose pulled over my legs But I tripped on the mat because my timing was off And ended up sneezing with a phlegmy old cough (Disgusting!) She said, "That’s not jazz," I said, "No, it’s math" Then I showed her my sovereign rings in the bath [Bridge] [Beat shifts into a frantic double-time Grime section] [Acoustic guitar goes into a dizzying, percussive harmonic solo] (Check the time signature!) (One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... I lost count!) (Safe!) [Verse 3] My nan thinks I’m a star, she bought me a plectrum But I’m playing with my toes across the whole spectrum I’m satirizing the government and the price of milk While wearing a tracksuit made of synthetic silk I’m a virtuoso, a legend, a total disgrace Playing five-four rhythms in your ugly face I’ll sell you a stolen mountain bike for Forty Two Pounds And play a diminished scale that’ll stun the hounds [Chorus] (He’s doing math rock in a tracksuit!) Wonky basslines and a complex riff Smelling like a basement and a herbal whiff It’s inappropriate, explicit, and slightly wrong The most technical chav in the world, come along! [Outro] [Acoustic guitar tapping fades out into a deep, distorted 2-step bass rumble] (Yeah) (Thirteen-eight, mate) (Prime numbers) (Do you want to buy a catalytic converter? It’s basically new) (Safe) [Final percussive slap on guitar body]

0/500