Bongo Monologue

If you don’t like rap then face it, you probably hate this, you’re probably racist
We can debate if its tasteless, but I am not a musical rapist
Those videos, booty and fake tits, you owe it to yourself, embrace it
The free market at its most basic, obsessed with cars like Ric Ocasek

Remember when it used to be conscience, its better know they talk about watches
And if that makes you nauseous, I bet you don’t know who the boss Rick Ross is
So maybe you should cut your losses, maybe you’d prefer the XX or the Gossip

Am I kidding? If you can’t stand rap change where you’re sitting
So full of it, full time bullshitting, filling up a notebook is so fulfilling
I’m self created, I took my inner Larry David and exaggerated it
Plus I want to be Tony Soprano, But I’m better known for tones on the piano

So the question is why rap? Is it white rap or is it like black?
Is it baggy jeans or is it tight slacks? and if I picked a fight would you fight back?
The great minds of this lifetime, I believe the next Einstein will write rhymes
The great minds of this lifetime, I believe the next Einstein will write rhymes
Great minds of this lifetime, I believe the next Einstein will write rhymes

Bongo Monologue

I wasn’t always obnoxious
I used to be self-conscious, then came the plot twist
Grew a big mouth now I can’t stop it, got no off switch
That’s a Jew’s invention, we talk to diffuse the tension
Verbal Gonorrhea, blah blah blah now that onamonopia

Its like hearing my dad rap, abstract like porn with a left track
Call me claptrap, I composed presidential suites piano keys a half black
Put it on paper, diary of a mad man, Don Draper
Got the mind of a record breaker and the grind of a pepper shaker

Cringe now, you’ll respect me later, I’m annoying but essential, slow elevator
Still less annoying than John Mayer, old like the LP, long player
I could play a whole set with one hand solo call me Boba Fett
The other hand rolling up a jazz cigarette and no, I haven’t said the N word yet

Its me versus me, music is cheap man that’s my currency
Live in the strange lands hoping that the beans won’t change hands
Another loss but the phone’s ringin’, I’m like a gay jazz musician I come out swingin’
Can’t stand the sound of my own singin’, so I’m lip syncing

My brains fucked cause my dick is thinking
So keep clapping, I’ll keep sweating, a big fat show like a Greek wedding
Always Gonz, never gone hyperactive can’t relaxes, think about death and taxes
They call me Chilly cause I godspeed these synapses