Song | Sun vs Moon |
Artist | Sage Francis |
Album | A Healthy Distrust |
作曲 : Frances | |
Th-the devil, | |
Th-th-the devil,(repeat x4 then continues until "settle their differences") | |
The devil only exists because of your belief in him, | |
Same goes for that other guy, | |
I believe the sun is simply reflecting the shine from the moon (word?) | |
Stealing its spotlight, they'll have a cockfight at noon, | |
To settle their differences, | |
At midnight, rematch, | |
To stir up their similarities on turntables, | |
That chicken scratch proved to be unreadable, | |
The determining factor in who gets the pitch to control the tides, | |
No one decides a victor unless they give a fair listen to both the sides, | |
We're low-lives, | |
We go blind jerking off to the eclipse, | |
The sun was pulling cheap shots doing commercial body tricks, | |
Behind the back, | |
Under the leg, | |
I think he even did a headspin, | |
On a crossfader that sounded whack, | |
But looked excellent, | |
All of the sudden it gets dim, | |
The crater face steps in, | |
Puts mexican drumbreaks on the | |
Technics,He's like " | |
Let's begin", | |
He conducted an orchestra so dope the sun started sweatin' him, | |
I guess he'd expected to win on pure artistic merit, | |
Composing complex plays with nothin but soundbytes, | |
Burned out the lights, | |
Made MCs too self conscious quit the master mics, | |
For a thousand nights, | |
It continued without a single slip up, | |
Except once the record skipped, | |
But it kinda sounded cool, | |
And fit within the rhythm he was juggling, | |
Poly-rhythms out of country western albums spinning, | |
It is plain that he had come to win, | |
But as always due to corrupt judging, | |
They drew a tie - | |
Now it's do or die. | |
The sun was like,no no no, | |
But the moon was like,go go go,(repeat x3) | |
And when the sun was chosen, | |
I came to the conclusion, | |
This guy doesn't know what he's doin'. | |
God's not a woman, | |
He's a big white guy in the sky, | |
And the deserts are reflections of his eyes, | |
He doesn't cry for us, | |
But when he does, | |
It's cause he's drunk,(Say What?), | |
God's not a woman, | |
He's a big white guy in the sky, | |
And the deserts are reflections of his eyes, | |
He doesn't cry for us, | |
But when he does, | |
It's cause he's drunk, | |
And he's always fucked up, | |
Bottoms up, | |
God's not a woman, | |
He's a bitch.(Backmasked:Praise Jesus,Do everything your mother tells you,Love thy Neighbor,Do not murder everyone,Shit, Pussy) | |
Th-the devil, | |
Th-th-the devil,(repeat x4) | |
This is one hand clapping alone, | |
This is the smallest violin, (violin) | |
Run rabbit when they fight to kill your baddest poem, | |
The devil is the fucking white man, | |
This is one hand clapping alone, | |
This is the smallest violin, (violin) | |
Run rabbit when they fight to kill your baddest poem, | |
The white man (the white man).(Th-th-the devil).. |
zuò qǔ : Frances | |
Ththe devil, | |
Thththe devil, repeat x4 then continues until " settle their differences" | |
The devil only exists because of your belief in him, | |
Same goes for that other guy, | |
I believe the sun is simply reflecting the shine from the moon word? | |
Stealing its spotlight, they' ll have a cockfight at noon, | |
To settle their differences, | |
At midnight, rematch, | |
To stir up their similarities on turntables, | |
That chicken scratch proved to be unreadable, | |
The determining factor in who gets the pitch to control the tides, | |
No one decides a victor unless they give a fair listen to both the sides, | |
We' re lowlives, | |
We go blind jerking off to the eclipse, | |
The sun was pulling cheap shots doing commercial body tricks, | |
Behind the back, | |
Under the leg, | |
I think he even did a headspin, | |
On a crossfader that sounded whack, | |
But looked excellent, | |
All of the sudden it gets dim, | |
The crater face steps in, | |
Puts mexican drumbreaks on the | |
Technics, He' s like " | |
Let' s begin", | |
He conducted an orchestra so dope the sun started sweatin' him, | |
I guess he' d expected to win on pure artistic merit, | |
Composing complex plays with nothin but soundbytes, | |
Burned out the lights, | |
Made MCs too self conscious quit the master mics, | |
For a thousand nights, | |
It continued without a single slip up, | |
Except once the record skipped, | |
But it kinda sounded cool, | |
And fit within the rhythm he was juggling, | |
Polyrhythms out of country western albums spinning, | |
It is plain that he had come to win, | |
But as always due to corrupt judging, | |
They drew a tie | |
Now it' s do or die. | |
The sun was like, no no no, | |
But the moon was like, go go go, repeat x3 | |
And when the sun was chosen, | |
I came to the conclusion, | |
This guy doesn' t know what he' s doin'. | |
God' s not a woman, | |
He' s a big white guy in the sky, | |
And the deserts are reflections of his eyes, | |
He doesn' t cry for us, | |
But when he does, | |
It' s cause he' s drunk, Say What?, | |
God' s not a woman, | |
He' s a big white guy in the sky, | |
And the deserts are reflections of his eyes, | |
He doesn' t cry for us, | |
But when he does, | |
It' s cause he' s drunk, | |
And he' s always fucked up, | |
Bottoms up, | |
God' s not a woman, | |
He' s a bitch. Backmasked: Praise Jesus, Do everything your mother tells you, Love thy Neighbor, Do not murder everyone, Shit, Pussy | |
Ththe devil, | |
Thththe devil, repeat x4 | |
This is one hand clapping alone, | |
This is the smallest violin, violin | |
Run rabbit when they fight to kill your baddest poem, | |
The devil is the fucking white man, | |
This is one hand clapping alone, | |
This is the smallest violin, violin | |
Run rabbit when they fight to kill your baddest poem, | |
The white man the white man. Thththe devil.. |