[WHOREOHSCOPE]

Scoliosis Jones

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7bAwkmRzS4

Hi my name's Scoliosis Jones
I've got a comb over coif and a smoker's cough
I'm into motorcross and am a Planet Z3 colonist
And a self-taught anesthesiologist
I've got a corn ethanol powered copter pack
For slow nights I'm in old type in almanacs
My bandmates act like tasteful Swedes
With tweezed brows they seed clouds with dreidels and beads
So I gnaw on the nozzles for syrupy opiates
When the political climate is clearly Soviet
But my crackpot persona's an eerie cozy fit
When I cackle at the throws of the hedge maze
I used to stab niggers with quarter notes
And treat royalty statements like horoscopes
But my wonderland's been deforested and poached
And my groin gets bombarded with x-rays

I'm Scoliosis Jones
"We all laugh at your expense", fuck you then
Full of broken bones "Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense"

In the headliner's Buck Rodgers seating wing
there's always blood in the toddler's teething ring
He needs legitimized conceit, cocaine nasal spray,
Splayed cable bays to liquefy the heath
His persona; assistants wear go-go boots and every vocal booth
Must have a glory hole
He's fellated by a roster of vapid poodles and eats apple strudels
Wearing a portly stole
A crass pipsqueek all slathed in bronzer
Picking out the pig's feet in the fattening curd cobbler
Flossing and stuff because he thinks we care
He signed a ten album deal with a pinky swear
Popular opinion's burgeoning gulf leans
To it's concerning his golf swing
My cardigan reeks in partisan pink
Because I'm Baron Fink in the Martian sphinx

I'm Scoliosis Jones
"We all laugh at your expense", fuck you then
Full of broken bones "Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense"

Pole vaulting over the exalted sultan of urban music
Because he's Nova Scotian
I am the script clinic for the post-millennial slacker biopic
Your pitch is impish full of skullduggery and slice of life dull cutlery
Twirl and flail around the motor fire and foreign policy deodorizer
I am the script clinic for the post-millennial slacker biopic

I'm Scoliosis Jones
"We all laugh at your expense", fuck you then
Full of broken bones "Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense"

I
I
I'm Scoliosis-

I'm Scoliosis Jones
"We all laugh at your expense", fuck you then
Full of broken bones "Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense"

Your Least Favorite Rapper

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEi47nQKnf4

Busdriver:
Uh oh

Nocando:
I don't need no popper stoppers,
cause the money in the pop.
Busdriver, Nocando.

Busdriver:
Wait hold on though

Nocando:
Project blowed

Busdriver:
Don't say my name though

Nocando:
Poppin P's profusely

Busdriver:
I don't want anybody to know I'm on this song

Nocando:
These sneaker geek emcees to me are so Broke Back
So fuck sexy in '09 I'm bringing broke back

Busdriver:
Your favorite rapper's brawny
Wearing a French braided hair shirt
My bank account be scrawny
Since I was a 10th grader square twerp

Nocando:
Your favorite rapper is extravagant
Aside from his pompous name
He's like a nursery with more cribs than John McCain

Busdriver:
Your favorite dude champions every Chicago city slum
From his condominium
While brandishing his implausible mini-gun

Nocando:
He sells more drugs than the FDA
He's ready for war like FDR
I believe him whole-heartedly
Because he keeps saying it in every bar

Busdriver:
Your favorite guy said that he shot niggas
On the grass lawn in his rap song
But he's sweeter than baked goods
When he claims his hood as Capcom

Nocando:
Your favorite rapper's got Alzheimer's
Repeats himself like an old timer
He works harder than a coal miner
When it comes to picking ghostwriters

Busdriver:
And me, I'm your least favorite
With a haircut like a pineapple
Wearing khakis torn singing hi-soprano
Loading candy corn like it's live ammo

Nocando:
What's wrong with you?

Busdriver:
Oh, Oh! I'm your least favorite rapper
My records only get released in Anchorage, Alaska

Nocando:
What's wrong with you?

Busdriver:
Oh, Oh! I'm your least favorite rapper
Rummaging through debris of screenplays and actors

Nocando:
What the fuck is wrong with you?

Busdriver:
Oh, Oh! I can't lease space ships from NASA
Because I'm your least favorite rapper

Nocando:
What's wrong with you?

Busdriver:
I am your least favorite
I am your least favorite
I am your least favorite

Nocando:
I am your least favorite rapper
my release date is after
the D-Day disaster
I need to get cheesecake for master

Busdriver:
I am your least favorite Flavor Flav impersonator
Pissing on the circuit breaker

Nocando:
While the strippers to the percolator

Busdriver:
I will be spell-checking some blurb in the paper

Nocando:
Read by the type of hipster
That don't like me yelling all kinds of niggas
While I'm vibing with you like Micheal Richards
Nigga, Nigga, Nigga, Nigga, Nigga, Nigga

Busdriver:
Still unliked because my leading single's about
Laser beams and force fields
And my hoopie's not full of groupies
Just Mavaline and orange peels
But I'll serve niggas at the Pizza hut

Nocando:
In a suburban kids say I'm not street
But compared to them I'm street as fuck

Busdriver:
I will put USB in their tween cunts

Nocando:
When it comes to this nerd rap
It seems like the black thing's a problem
You know what I Idi A-mean
I feel like the last king of Scotland

Busdriver:
So my job has me cultivating all the white guilt
Dipping Polaroids in rice milk
Smacking Souja Boy wearing corduroys
And an iced grill

Nocando:
The new rap fans listen to 'Ye
Start sniffing the yay pretending they're gay
Put a switch in their hips with a feminine sway
Just to convince the women to stay

Busdriver:
Selling out like it was Christmas Day
And give everyone an admission to pay
For a tit in the face

Nocando:
I was beginning to say
What came first the chicken or egg
The twist in the fray, dissident fan that listens today
Dissipates visits and strays
What the fuck
Did our whole sense of business decay

Busdriver:
We underused all the parlor tricks
Instead of talking about art and shit
I should have put my hardened dick
On the hind quarters of Time Warner

Nocando:
It's over!
That fool just served Time Warner,
fools are sniffin' yay,
that fool had tits at your Christmas party!
Shout out to Forest Whitaker, Idi Amin!
Yeah, Yeah!

Nocando:
What's wrong with you?

Busdriver:
Oh, Oh! I'm your least favorite rapper
My records only get released in Anchorage, Alaska

Nocando:
What's wrong with you?

Busdriver:
I'm your least favorite rapper
Rummaging through debris of screenplays and actors

Nocando:
What the fuck is wrong with you?

Busdriver:
Oh, Oh! I can't lease space ships from NASA
Because I'm your least favorite rapper

Nocando:
What's wrong with you?

Busdriver:
I am your least favorite
I am your least favorite
I am your least favorite

World Agape

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zl3h7SBXz_Q

Whoo!
Art rap, art rap, art rap, art rap!
Whoo!

Who better qualified to mediate in the larp discord/
With my dewy moleskin brewing cauldron and karmic orb/
I'm fully pantsless like the wooly mammoth from the tar pit gorge/
Yet I'm David Carradine taking thorazine off the starship oars/
No godhead in the blog thread stringing this harpsichord/
No tasteful tunes, just tablespoons of parsnip porridge/
Of the bleeded ether from the Greenpeacer's alarmist lore/

I'm dashing and windblown/
When the world's agape/
And I bookend your smiles with unhappy endings/
I'm dashing and windblown/
When the world's agape/

Drop orange rind on the war crime set in the crowded ballot/
With my in-laws and Limbaugh singing a power ballad/
Their price gouging funds their night outings and flowered phallice/
More than spider bites we give them writer's strikes and an endowed outage/
The ulcer gargle and dulcimer drone are character-driven/
Like the "no sir" art show, sulfur marble and American women/
This bonus disk shows my showmanship and parenting acumen/

I'm dashing and windblown/
When the world's agape/
And I bookend your smiles with unhappy endings/
I'm dashing and windblown/
When the world's agape/
Oh what to do/

Oh what to do when the world we service is a whirling dervish/
And my sidekick aids his surly cervix he's burly and girlish/
And I'm Isaac Hayes on a gurney in Zurich saying/
"Man up puss! Right now!"/
We're telling kids/
"Oh yes, you can't"/

I'm rushed to hair and make-up on the war-torn beachfront/
Where I narrate stuff like a foreign-born creampuff/
But I forewarn the teen pups that their core's worn and pre-shrunk/
Then in poor form, I triple lutz and I land on my gristle hump/
But really/
I'm into spooning and spoonerisms/
And I make a splash like my hands are two-thirds fish fin/
Because when I talk it's like nuclear fission yet it resonates/
Like a Ferris Bueller ditch party/
Apply the oil-slick sheen of the Blue Man Group/
Eat Soylent Green by the two-hand scoop/
When you see my face at the newsstand booth/
With plutonium in his thermos/
I got Obi-Wan discharged/
With my phony gun and lip service/
I earned the large gift card/
To stir up the stern class kings and nurture the saplings/

I earn medals dirt-pedal with the facial hair of Burt Reynolds/
Burnt kettles on my turntables/
Make sheet music leak coolant/
When I speak to it/