Uptown 37

Martin!
Hey Martin, where's the blacksmith?
Playing horseshoes with Daniel Webster
with who?
Daniel Webster
R.A.P. Ferreira
Ruby Yacht
Soulfolks
Nalepa
Team Supreme
One, Two
Yeah, let's do it

Flow sound like a subpoena for Mistadobalina
Hit like Colonel Stinkmeaner
After you was poppin' that goon shit just a second ago
The Ruby Yacht is a movement, synthesized in the celestial
Begat, where there be gats
Speed traps, sleek rats, and asshole-eaters
My flow a taxi meter running rampant
My days are full of scampi and antis
I learned praying form the mantis
Certain phrasings originate from the Handses
My scripture dynamic, the vision elastic
The point became a vantage
Advances in advantage made us candid
Communicating in glances
You will know us by the shining of our lances

I should say Dymaxion
Just me and my standards
That echoing in the palace of the mind

Worm in the rainwater cistern
Pain in my system
Clod of burned garlic and corn smut
My little harlot chortles for more nut
This flow my horcrux
Daddy Ro Warbucks, with my road dogs, no tour bus
No amount of money could afford us
What's morbid is there's poets who want to be on the Forbes list
I will be gorgeous and homeless
Stealing from your fortress
Bad habits, no abacus
But we asking why would the Devil need a advocate?
How you bald, busting hat tricks?
Sharpshooter versus mavericks
Hyphens and asterisks
Footnotes and post-scripts
My muffin grilled not toasted
Suit piece and a shiner
Laughter in Marcy's Diner typo tempo
All these tiny mementos, I'm always dusting
Malafide husbandry
Corner hustling, as in not busking
The clattering of guillotines in the backdrop of whatever it is you're building

Exiled in the X-Files
R.A.P. Ferreira will rap forever
The cinematic speaker, wall gazer poet
Ruby Yacht

Respect means a lot to you
So the sense that, "I'm taken seriously and respected for my work"
You can read this in my face?
Yeah
I can read it in terms of what's been written about you and what you've said
And I took that right outta your piece
Where do they come from?
They look like caricatures of used car dealers from Dallas
And sweet Jesus, there are a hell of a lot of them at 4:30 on a Sunday morning
Still humping the American Dream
That vision of the big winner somehow emerging
From the last-minute pre-dawn chaos at a stale Vegas casino
Spinning the wheel, spinning the wheel, spinning the wheel
Make me rich, make me very rich
Oh, you bastard
No, no calm down
Learn to enjoy losing



Credits
Writer(s): Rory Allen Philip Ferreira
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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