Show Lyrics

Playdough - Lonely Superstar
(from the album Lonely Superstar)
© copyright 2002

Verse 1:
Words I'm composing, known as the mic theologian/
Breaking down my tracks thru my rhymes like erosion/
Carving sculptures with all the words that I inject/
Thru my lyrical syringe make you cringe when I singe/
Your third eye, due to overexposure of lyrical composure/
I'm burning mental retina then betting your/
Head will start to nod to breath of God that I exhale/
And sail my penmanship on saliva from a lip/
Then trip out nebuchadnezzar who said that I would never/
Break it down on linoleum in a fire with Messiah's silhouette/
So I watch them sweat when we dance/
Hitting the stance of b-boys to last dragons like Leroy/
Then set a decoy so easily trapped are consonants and vowels/
We keep vocabulary moving like some bowels/
And scowl, towel off the microphone mesh/
Putting words in lyrical Tupperware to keep our rhymes fresh.

Hook:
I stood alone with a weapon as poem/
Who you are a superstar on this microphone/
I've got 2 turntables that revolve my plan/
While I'm lip syncing on American bandstand/
I stood alone with a weapon as poem/
Who you are a superstar on this microphone/
I've got 2 turntables that revolve my plan/
While I'm lip-syncing on soul train my man.

Bridge:
I stood alone, no friends only microphone/
Me and the trinity, looking back from the place I've grown it's less traveled/
But I can see no friends and no ends/
There's only One that I rely on, one shoulder that I cry on/
To Mt. Zion, it's less traveled.

Verse 2
I stand alone though never am forsaken, partake in/
Beats baptized inside of red-letter quotations/
High light it and skywrite it on the face of stratosphere/
The landscape I shape with words deemed me pioneer/
For a clear seen future a poet with lost scrolls/
Passing rhythm's bridge and placing art in lost souls/
Till they're found now grown from the ground/
My sound marches in compliance of alliance to my science/
So rewound are the words of life I stay speaking/
I'm resurrecting rhythm and it's soul to keep it tweaking/
With a home, a metronome then mix it with percussion/
Giving head nods to dead gods that's killed in my discussion/
While I'm touching on a cumulonimbus that I witness/
Flipping over 16 bars like an oral gymnast/
Then I win this medal at the peak of hip-hop/
Searching for Christ's face cuz down here it's lonely at the top.

Hook:

Bridge

Chorus