Bomb The Bass – Bug Powder Dust

Download another hot old mp3 free audio song lyrics by Bomb The Bass and this amazing music is titled “Bug Powder Dust”.

Actually this amazing music is popped out of an old album which is titled ‘Clear’ and it was released in the year 1995.

 

Music Video below!.

 

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[Lyrics]

 

“I think it’s time to discuss your, ah

Philosophy of drug use as it relates to artistic endeavor”

Check it, yo, I always hit the tape with the rough road styles

You heard the psychedelic and ya came from miles

Keep my rhymes thick like a Guinness brew

So you could call me black and tan when I’m a wreckin’ a crew

I’m like Bill Lee writing when he’s in Tangier’s

And now I’m on a soul safari with my Beatnik peers

Analog reel and a little distortion

Smokin’ on somethin’s you could say I’m scorchin’

I never been the type to brag but beware

I’ll make a man burn his draft card like it was hair

Send ya up the river like you lookin’ for Kurtz

I got the mugwump jism up in every verse

I always hit the apple when I’m going to shoot

So you can call me William Tell or Agent Cooper to boot

Mr. Mojo Risin’ on the case again

So tell your mother and your sister and your sister’s friends

Like an exterminator running low on dust

I’m bug powder itchin’ and it can’t be trussed

Inter zone trippin’ and I’m off to Annexia

I gotta get a typewriter that’s sexier

My name is Justin and that’s all, that’s it

And I’ll be spittin’ rhymes wicked like it ain’t no shit

Houses of the Holy like Jimmy Page

But the song remains the same so I’m stuck in a rage

Just like Jane when she’s going to Spain

I think I’m going away tomorrow, just a fool in the rain

Light up the candles and bless the room

I’m paranoid, snow blind, just a black meat fool

Bug powder dust an’ mugwump jism

The wild boys runnin’ ’round Interzone trippin’

Letter to control about the Big Brother

Trying like Hart to not blow my cover

Bug powder dust an’ mugwump jism

The wild boys runnin’ ’round Interzone trippin’

Letter to control about the Big Brother

Trying like Hart to not blow my cover

Never been a fake and I’m never phony

I got more flavor than the packet in macaroni

Rock drippin’ from my every vowel

I’ve got the soul of the sixties like Ginsberg’s Howl

Shootin’ mad ball and I’m always jukin’

Take you to the hole and I’m surely hoopin’

Top of the pops like the Lulu’s show

I’ll take a walk on Abbey Road with my shoes of soul

I got a splinter though, damn, you know man it hurt

I got a Vegemite sandwich from Men at Work

I keep minds in line, but time sublimes

So when you search you find something like a gold mine

A psychedelic meanderings in the poem

I got a paddock in any place that I roam

Waiting for the sun on a Spanish caravan

Solar eclipse and I’m feeling like starin’ man

Bug powder dust an’ mugwump jism

The wild boys runnin’ ’round Interzone trippin’

Letter to control about the Big Brother

Trying like Hart to not blow my cover

Bug powder dust an’ mugwump jism

The wild boys runnin’ ’round Interzone trippin’

Letter to control about the Big Brother

Trying like Hart to not blow my cover

Who’s that man in the windowpane

Got somethin’ on his tongue and it’s startin’ to stain

Sho’ nuff equip so I can get down

Step up on my ladder and you’ll get beat down

Hash bar style so I’m singin’ day glow

Wakin’ up the dead like Serpent and the Rainbow

Jeff Spicoli roll me another hay

The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh with Dr. J

Shockin’ your ass like a faulty vibrator

Hear me now, but you’ll probably get the vibe later

Who knows where the wicked wind blows

Que sera sera just leave it alone

Great Space Coaster toast up the town

Makin’ midgets with my man Dr. Shrinker

Pass the hookah, throw down the pillows

Cloth on the ceiling, blow rings that billow

Kick off the shoes and relax your feet

Now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat

Makin’ midgets with my man Dr. Shrinker

Pass the hookah, throw down the pillows

Cloth on the ceiling, blow rings that billow

Kick off the shoes and relax your feet

Now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat

Bug powder dust an’ mugwump jism

The wild boys runnin’ ’round Interzone trippin’

Letter to control about the Big Brother

Trying like Hart to not blow my cover

Bug powder dust an’ mugwump jism

The wild boys runnin’ ’round Interzone trippin’

Letter to control about the Big Brother

Trying like Hart to not blow my cover

“I think it’s time for you boys to share my last taste

Of the true black meat

The flesh of the giant aquatic Brazilian Centipede”