Unemployed Black Astronaut - Busdriver

I am the first black astronaut

To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon

I am the first black astronaut

To walk the bare moon

(Quite possibly, one of the great all-time love tracks.)

It’s the resurgence of the happy black rappers

But our African medallions are handicap placards

I am alphabetized in the modernized retro

And my press photos are wallet sized.

My rent’s low

Why don’t you shape me?

I’m malleable flesh and putty

And a salad bowl with dill dressing

And assimilated into urban field testing

Dress and doggy are coveted by a sexy bunny

Afraid I’ll add her to my burlesque show

Who severed the ring finger of the lead singer and store a fresh bowl

Of the Bitches' Brew with bee stingers but I’m refreshed though

It’s home of the black speed reader

Perplexed or blurb stretched

Dude adjusted I am spacey but the burden is low

Which means I’m commonplace

Til the boy and me traveled the country in wooden spaceships

On the phone cussing at de-booking agents

I wield words that have come from the country with the underground who’s-who

But I feel like I’ve been sodomized with a billiards pool cue

I am the first black astronaut

To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon

Pound my beliefs into the desired shape

And put them sound asleep in the fireplace

I am the first black astronaut

To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon

Pound my beliefs into the desired shape

And put them sound asleep in the fireplace

It’s the return of the all-popular dope rappers

Who retreat to their holes in the sky, climbing up rope-ladders

And I will sell you a silver disc soaked in laughter

Cause you’ve been brainwashed.

Out of your ears leaks soap lather

Why don’t you deify me?

I’m Buckaroo Bonzai

Don’t know what to do, I’m the wrong guy

I touch crews like Krush Groove on DVD

And I kinda started doing songs with CVE

But now you’re like (Chillin' Villain who? Project what?)

Persona Non Grata with the wrist-band in front of Popsicle stick man

He’s a wall of hot lava.

Drip crayon on your clipped glands

So I found the top dollar.

Twist strands to enrich fans

But there’s not a lot of offers.

They give brands to kitsch bands

I water lawns for the ADD D&D role-players

And we got along, so we formed a commonwealth

And you hear me do random sightings and file-sharing

And you tell me that song writing’s like child bearing

No it’s not, it’s self indulgence

Elfen culprits watch their egos melt in charcoal pits

I am the first black astronaut

To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon

Pound my beliefs into the desired shape

And put them sound asleep in the fireplace

I am the first black astronaut

To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon

Pound my beliefs into the desired shape

And put them sound asleep in the fireplace

Oh my.

Sorry I left my acceptance speech in the back of the private car

And I re-wrote the Hollywood ending flux the motion-picture screen

Made it so the black guy doesn’t die by the opening scene

Oh my.

Sorry I left my acceptance speech in the back of the private car

When I re-wrote the Hollywood ending flux the motion-picture screen

Made it so the black guy doesn’t die by the opening scene

Yeah!

This is the climb of the cathartic writer

That labels couldn’t market they lifer

I’ve been out-sold and my styles are old and lame

I’ll spark a lighter to the carpet fiber cause I’m not a household name

I’m a tax write-off, I signed a deal with no exit clause

My label’s like Ms. Santa Clause on menopause, so I’m banging on padded walls

So I’m trying to make hits, but I keep hitting pop flys

I don’t eat out any more, I thaw chicken pot pies

But I used to be in the list of the top five

Fresh hip-hop guys

I am the first black astronaut

To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon

Pound my beliefs into the desired shape

And put them sound asleep in the fireplace

I am the first black astronaut

To walk the bare moon, from my air balloon