Ugh- music has changed so much!
Music then:
Whoa, black betty (bam-A-lam)
whoa, black betty (bam-A-lam)
Black betty had a child (bam-A-lam)
The damn thing gone wild (bam-A-lam)
She said “It weren’t none of mine” (bam-A-lam)
The damn thing gone blind (bam-A-lam)
I said oh black betty (bam-A-lam)
whoa, black betty (bam-BA-lam)
whoa, black betty (bam-BA-lam)
whoa, black betty (bam-BA-lam)
- Ram Jam
Music Now:
Hence forth, step within my psychoanalysis
callouses upon my mind make me strain for my lines
out I ripped it, squeezed the brain, it made some liquid
drained it in a cup and then I sipped it
Atmosphere! The mic let me clutch it
thoughts take flight so fit the Slug in your pipe and take a puff kid
fuck it! I heat it like a tea pot - steam hot
upon the roof, shoot a marble with the verbal slingshot
take aim, here I came, I’m the same
Back in ‘86, I’da tag my name upon your window pane
stained the mind; a deep shade of residue
voices within the head make choices multiple
multiply Spawn, Slug a little buzz
and Atmosphere the scuds, ‘cause here come the judge
blasted; so pass the kid a mic so we can paint this
image of the gifted-anxious, to flip the language
-Atmosphere
The point: I know that this Atmosphere song is like 15 years old, but still the point is that every generation has their mindless, rote, lyrical murders and every generation has the poets.
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