Life Just Bounces don't you get worried at all. (A weblog of music and otrogenerica)

Tuesday, 22 June 2010

[30,000 Leagues] Dancehall feat. Ava Leigh

<a href="">Dancehall feat. Ava Leigh by 30KB</a>

On a personal level, i have a great deal of affection for this one. Not sure why, particularly. The recurring presence of John Prescott is probably something to do with it.

["John Prescott"] *I can't help it, I'm a ladies' man. Now, who wants a punch?*

[diss1] We smash a silent prism. Rhythm fill up the schism. They got a warrant on this recidivist lyricism. i'm feeling sorta hyper. Somebody pass a lighter. i filter flowing through a tetrahydro- sorta cypher. Step to the stage, we *punch* like John Prescott. See for yourself just how much better the best got. Just try and keep the beat. Hold on to your receipt. Murder mystery weekend silencer, guest shot.
[AcheZen Pains] A cool belated structure from disjunction as a tool, refuse it. Life lesson and rule: stop, look and listen to music. Cut the wacky sample, as a result you forfeit and lose this. Old school like pterodactyl, prehistoric tune abusers. We bring the new ish, the first thing on your wishlist. The last door to break the knocking hand of the last Jehovah's Witness. Picking the seams for indifference, it's gotta be somebody's business. A hobby tree of commodity, as ugly as you are ambitious. Will this mocking stop? Nah, it's gonna last forever. Spit a nasty fluid, evil like I got a mad vendetta. But you've got to get better because nobody likes your flows. Attack and make your lungs collapse through panic. That's the way it goes. When sober, drunk or stoned, grip tight to microphone, sniff the stuff I'm smoking will leave you with a bleeding nose. Don't get me wrong though, in case misunderstood: I am an artist, but I won't draw blood.

[chorus] We take the mic and we strive
30,000 fly solutions to the problems of staying alive
Disposing of hot-zone clones
*Two turntables and a fuckin' microphone!*

We take the stage and we soar
30,000 rise-to-the-occasions for the problems of keeping it raw
Careful with that thing when you're passin'...
*Who's the microphone assassin?*

[AZP] Our lilt's a little lighter, Slim Pickens riding bombs. Flow like a "Beatslope" biter, warm-up phenomenon. Now what the hell's he on? We struck a light chord. For years we take from tears until it appears unclear what we fight for. I write more, that's lesson one from ampheta-metatron. Stomp cities like I'm Megalon, pity what I'm stepping on. The weapon's on, the weapon's aimed and with that grows the guessing game. Solutions for some second fame, we're shooting for a better day.
[diss1] 30K is sort of like the new H5N1. Smartest guys in the room, more so than Enron, cuz when a plan go wrong it's not our names on the paper. Already ducked out the back door saying "see ya later!" Second-rate caterers savour lame shit, we on some future tip like "get these motherfucking snakes off my spaceship!" Eject 'em out the airlock. In space, nobody can hear you hiss... ultimate Dolby noise reduc for those who diss [*one!*] Tranquility shattered down to splinters. Style with the bile to turn your nuclear fams to nuclear winters, and when Chernobyl savages hunter/gather the wilderness for dinner i'll claim squatter's rights on the podium of the winner. Check it: back to the city's lights sober. In the overpass, spirits linger in the air like an odour of cheap perfume, piss and chip fat. And this town... is coming like Pripyat.

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