Buggin out at the computer with a cheese sandwich

Ever since I overheard someone on the street remark, "Bjork is so 90s", I've had a hard time getting it out of my mind. Admittedly, I listen to her less than I did. I remember that time in London, early morning with Goldie pulling it out in a club, and Bjork strolling in, wearing some hooded fake fur. Or maybe it was a big, fluffy bonnet. Certainly there was a cape. And she strolled up to the dj booth where Goldie's bleached waves were plainly visible, as he hunched down over the turntables, shirtless beneath his satin jacket. Suddenly, a microphone was produced and Bjork was scatting over the furiously pounding beats. She was screaming and moaning, not to mention cha-cha-chaing. I thought she was the shit.

Truth be told, I don't think anyone's really the shit nowadays except for me. With my shades and my hair, I've got it fucking going on. I take Bjork out of the stereo and put on John Lennon. It's different with him. I don't even question these things.

Why is that? Because every one's always told me to? Because he was in the Beatles? Who gives a fuck! Except for whatever samples you can rip out of those songs, which incidentally, is a lot. And I'm not just thinking about the weird-o sounds like the carnaval-esque backmasking interlude in "For The Benefit of Mr. Kite" on Sergeant Pepper, but also the fantastic, pseudo doo-wap vocals Lennon pulls off in "Just Like Starting Over". They'd both be great for hip-hop--two songs just begging to be mined and stripped, until they were like old racing cars rubbed down to the silver and propped up on lime green cinderblock in the frontyard.

Some things are just great--in essence (the first, single thing you know about the thing when something you see or hear makes you think of it) and in parts (the threads, and the color of the threads--everything was royal and important). There's been a lot of great fiction over the years but certain writings have everything--words,ideas, descriptions, metaphors, stylizations, comedy, tragedy (10 shots to the dome). It's the difference between Flannery O' Connor and Shakespeare.

Or is that just because they made me like Shakespeare? All those teachers and Harold Bloom. NO--it's not just influence, something else happened to me when I read Shakespeare. Something about how the lines were undulating outwards like rows of hedges, lush and green, which somewhere along the middle of the play magically join together into a single labyrinth--the inevitable path of fate, with only one way out--introduced by a Fool and finished by a sword...

The World is all that is the Case...

And now, without further ado, the complete lyrics of Buggin' Out, the song I've got playing now...As TRUE would say, "If you don't know, now you know..."
.."Buggin' Out"
[Phife Dawg] Yo, microphone check one two what is this The five foot assassin with the ruffneck business I float like gravity, never had a cavity Got more rhymes than the Winans got family No need to sweat Arsenio to gain some type of fame No shame in my game cause I'll always be the same Styles upon styles upon styles is what I have You wanna diss the Phifer but you still don't know the half I sport New Balance sneakers to avoid a narrow path Messin round with this you catch ?the sizin of em? I never half step cause I'm not a half stepper Drink a lot of soda so they call me Dr. Pepper Refuse to com-pete with BS competition Your name ain't Special Ed so won't you Seckle With the Mission I never walk the streets, think it's all about me Even though deep in my heart, it really could be I just try my best to like go all out Some might even say yo shorty black you're buggin' out

[Q-Tip] Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh, uh! Zulu Nation, brothers that's creation Minds get flooded, ejaculation right on the two inch tape The Abstract poet incognito, runsss the cape Not the best not the worst and occasionally I curse to get my point across, so bust, the floss As I go in betweeen, the grit and the dirt Listen to the mission listen Miss as I do work, umm as I crack the, monotone Children of the jazz so, get your own Smokin R&B cause they try to do me or the best of the pack but they can't do rap For it's Abstract, orig-inal You can't get your own and that's, pitiful I know I'd be the man if I cold yanked the plug on R&B, but I can't and that's bugged

Buggin out, buggin out, buggin out you're buggin out (repeat 8X)

[Phife Dawg] Yo when you bug out, you usually have a reason for the action Sometimes you don't it's just for mere satisfaction People be houndin, always surroundin Pulsin, just like a migraine poundin You don't really fret, you stay in your sense ?Comafied? your feeling, of absolute tense You soar off to another world, deep in your mind But people seem to take that, as being unkind "Oh yo he's acting stank," really on a regal? A man of the fame not a man of the people Believe that if you wanna but I tell you this much Riding on the train with no dough, sucks Once again a case of your feet in my Nike's If a crowd is in my realm I'm saying -- mic please Hip-hop is living, can't yank the plug if you do the result, will end up kind of bugged

[Q-Tip] Yo, I am not an invalid although I used to smoke the weed out Ali Shaheed Muhammad used to say I had to be out Schemin on the cookies with the crazy boomin back buns Pushin on the real ?hardest? so we can have the big fun When I left for Rosie I was Boulevard status Battling a MC was when Tip was at his baddest It was one MC after one MC What the world could they be wanting see from little old me Do I have the formula to save the world? Or was it just because I used to swipe the women and all the girls I'm the type of brother with the crazy extended hand kid Dissed by all my brothers I was all up what my man did Supposed to be my man but now I wonder cause you're feeble I go out with the strongest and I seperate the evils it's your brain against my mind, for those about to boot out All you nasty critters even though you see I bug out

Buggin out, buggin out, buggin out you're buggin out (repeat 8X)

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