RUSTY
It’s a kind a strange thing
Look back then at the beggenning
Find ourself in the big bang
Crossing the space with the bling band
It’s about roots in the real time
It’s about Broots in the right time
Moderated, squally folly, skizzy
Shaking, freaking, linking, breaking
Yesterday I saw the Broots on TV, singing their new song rusty
Since then, I swear men, life on earth became kind of easy
Suddenly ma body felt electricity, and my sofa caught fire
Yes my lord they got the rhythm, true love and the sense of humor
Oh brother, oh sista
look about yourself
Oh blabla, oh bowm bowm
keep the mind operate
Oh brother, oh sista
it’s a long faze
Oh blabla, oh bowm bowm
Up your raise
Rusty in my brain
We gave the one shot
Rusty in my name
Rasta you can’t stop
I do think they are cool, the way they move is cool
Their simple lyrics talk about me, which above all is cool
You cannot see that they’re angry
that they know who’s the real enemy
I you ask guess the answer: “the screen through which you’re looking at me”
Beggars usually leave me quite
When they see the way I am dressed
In the bars ladies don’t look impressed until I move my body on the hi-hat
We don’t need to be on a dancefloor
to make the shirt get wet
In my kitchen I had the best, Saturday night fever ever
It’s kind tricky on the back-line
Sexy on the front line
Just a common way to say
Freeman gotta be ready to be wild in one way
We had to stand lots of roads
To understand your lots of words
Ain’t gonna be mild, got a free mind
Stand against the lust
Many things I say come back as trap to me
The day I think” with meat I’m done”, my flat mate makes
For the first time his mum’s secret chili
We try to never claim that we are clever
We know we would be tested the sooner or the later
I blue my rest
So I reach my goal
I did my best
So I keep my soul
THE GLINGODS
Here come the chang bang
No, nothing about the big hey
But only the big way
Come one man show me what your mind say
It gives plenty basses
So much that they became rude on your faces
It’s about your froots men
Yeah, we gonna play with the rules then
Big guns are freaky men but also make bang bang
You know bang bang
What makes you look at me ?
L’amour, l’amour
What makes you talk to me ?
L’amour, l’amour
What makes you spend money ?
L’amour, l’amour
What makes you lie to me ?
L’amour, l’amour
The Gling-Gods are coming from the start
No bling dools, but still they will go techno
They bring a lot, make it shift
strange reggae with a dirty beat
Before them hip hop music was shit
Easy bro’ nobody can blame the trip of my ego
Just telling to the crowd we are pround to be cool
That dancefloor go Broots give us more fantasy
You’re number one of my mp3
Clap the clip make it slip
Crack your trick on the dancefloor beat
Back to meet the black train feet
Pick the trip it’s a classical trip
Skip the brain and pick up a step
Track the moon see it’s a sticky groove
It’s freaky groove but a funny moon
All became so professional
Not just here it’s international
Sound can be supernatural
Showbiz still commercial
We are look for attention
It’s essential and central
But without some precaution it turns
Narcisstical, individual, uncultural
Disrespecting the real question
Oh shit, Nady
I’m starting to feel sorry
You speech, really, brings me back to reality
But wasn’t supposed to be a secret
Warriors dressed up like starlet
Clap match kick the crowd
Catching the taste of what the mass likes
Egoes and clichés
Fake libido
Bimbos and beaches
Blinging wegos in shiny Ferraris
Wasting their flows
Insulting mothers and memories
ASK TO ME
I got the beat
ask to the flip
provide your trick
and break up the brick
hurry by the flow
hurry by the law
to be afraid brother
I need the road
wish attraction
in a grubby world of conception
at the end, let in your heart
the better gimmick extend
reggaellogy ina my philosophy
fighting my sould blasted
regain the turn wasted
Ask to me - position of the word
could be used, could be lost
I will make you see
expose it here back
about the real track
about to find out
ask to me
anything can be said
about the trust that you pay
I will make you see
too much is not begging
I just want you to sing
Presure on my shoulders
I need a break
wanna to be a warrior
but turns to be a jerk
pressure on my shoulders
I need a text
try to find the right words
cause ou can not be fake
we no play no bad boy
and we no speak no pidjin
we no come from Kingston
and neither from Berlin
we no grow no dreadlocks
but inside we are rasta
me understand that I and I
do not have no colours
but still me wonder why and how
nothing is relaxing
the pressure on my shoulders
when me look for the right thing
I really think I’m looking for the way
to become a better writer and not only to say it
I and I are searching
and do not only asking
to be like the dreamer
the walker free from the beginning
the sight of a blue quite stroke
in my ideas
hoping fo no reason
me having no any master
if I could find a trick
to make the word fit
on each and every beat
you’d be already rich
baby we gonna stop the show
and maybe after
if we sing over minimal techno
we’ll feel better
newspapers covered with our photos
we’ll kee the lips shut
if you dare use the power of the tong bro’
they’ll turn our sound off
GET BUSY
give me a phone call
you funny girl
I hear the buzz of my cellular looking for connexion
press pause
don’t forget boy
she’s just practises her profession
I heard your sight grow
hardly looking for the perfect circle
sure you were so busy today
and now
you’re expecting your swain
immediate
contact
the right know
controls your destiny
busy she mint be or in the park
or gone for a nap like anybody
well guess what funny boy
your speech now easy twangs
to get so dizzy
everybody became what you clam
living at the phone life with too much pain
relax or call back later
leave a Combox or write a messenger
she got a life to take it for yourself
if she gives no answers
don’t be crazy
all the lines are busy
you better think and take it much easier
all the things you should remember
when your mails were made of simple paper
when you don’t make it rings
so you should better find a way to chease this
or don’t ever call me your brother
brother in a love
doesn’t bother with the law
no shame no care for
known Nos
blake mail words of a written wisdom
keen as a sword
sorrow as an outcome
brother in the morning
brother in the evening
baby you’re doing wrong
it rings, all right
you chat, all night
you better write, write your words
twisted knowledge
selfish porridge
headache
stomach on swinging bridge
fake faze
on a dirty tactic
pretending to protect the future of a chick
sweet sugar me
on a late answer
look at, look at me
sweet sugar me
on a late answer
let’s a looka looka looka at me
isn’t it bizarre
I left a bisou
on the wall facebook’s twitter
I call on the wizard
in less than an hour
if I stay without a response from you
mellow reggae changing your days
bass and peace on a honeymoon trip
going surfing the waves
music is a way to pray
no Atlantic beach
just tropical creaks on a pacific bays
he got the gain
the purple smoke pain
Jo let the cig nip all his brain
hard time to put that just far away
take care it’s only a stanza
but you’ll find your way
again and again
torments in the studio
no pain get no gain
the dancers getting physical
stretched legs violently spread in stereo
hysterical trainer
counting on your abdominos
red became white
and black became blue
acting the right to make my reggae boogaloo
we gonna try to do better
than the lost past of Jo
awakening the positive that’s waiting in the soul
MELLOW REGGAE
one, two, three in the row
that’s what happened to Jo
he got fed up of smoking pot
and choose to play it mellow
now hundreds of chariots
standing behind him
huge and high knights
ridding at the light’s speed
amazon, soldiers
cobras and mommies
helmets, bows and
skullets of steal
Jo’s trust shines on the iron shirts
and spades of his army
which is ready
ready to charge on the charms of obscurity
destroying the castle and the conditions of envy
ready to charge on the charms of obscurity
destroying the castle and the conditions of envy
and now
he’s waiting, he’s waiting, he’s waiting for pain
he’s waiting, he’s waiting for sorrow
now, now, now, now, now
yo play it mellow