Unsuccessful Club Nights

This one goes out to DJ Nato, Touch, C-Seckshun, Weez-L, Sonny Grimezzz I’m at your party like a girl I’ve slept with That is now with the man of the house New routes are directed, I get played out Like underground rap, I wonder if you understand facts I’m not Rory Them Finest, but sometimes I try I’m not a good self-promoter, I held a certain order For my tracks and the way I select them I clean off my records in an effort to protect them I soak off my labels when I pull them from the store And I got slipcases but I could use more I play the bass shit because it simply booms But it gets hard playing for an empty room While it is a Tuesday, that should be no excuse Hard working people are dying to let loose I turn the lows high with a knob in the booth I’m honest, I’m telling the whole truth [Chorus] Cause my night ain’t good, so my nights get worse My night ain’t good, so my nights get worse My night ain’t good, so my nights get worse I play for nobody, I know that love hurts Too drunk to fuck, I’m too fucked to think The rockers love me, I put dust in their drinks When I pump in the dance punk numbers that bleed Off the Richter, I’m a man about needs Like checkers, I jump for practical records With snap music collecting grey by the day I’m pay per play with a focus on the former And I keep a metal box filled with four corners Like Johnny Rotten, I switch styles with the year With an awkward mix, I think I’m in the clear! And now I hold dear the tracks that break the ruts They got me like, “Scene sluts, shake your butts!” I do the Simon Says like Pharoahe, pull a rapper’s card like tarot Meet a girl, hit the crib, bump Portishead, G. Barrow I’m posted up like a scarecrow Play a couple tones, they’re on the bone like marrow [Chorus] I write rhymes, I don’t write checks Cover your fucking mouth if you see me on the decks I start off my set with some real soft numbers Like rounded off Sesame Street, I’m pressing the beats And I give just a bit of the one-two Before they get unimpressed by the whole damn runthrough But when I go out, I confuse myself I only dance to songs that expound about wealth So this is the first step in a long combination It takes two to tango and even more to make a movement You’ll get later’d like a truant, I try to set the songs To the future, you’re still playing “Deceptacon” Where’s the history? Where’s the identity? DJs find their hearts with Hollertronix chemistry Moths to a flame, they run out to the light That’s why nobody goes to unsuccessful club nights [Chorus]