Vertigo

A couple people have requested that I put the lyrics to "Vertigo" (not the ass U2 record, but my ass hip-hop song) online. Here they are:

Vertigo

Room’s gettin hazy, party’s gettin crazy, everybody get busy, go psycho

Well, my name is J-Son and I’m the king of rock
I’m settin’ you free like my name’s John Locke
Herbie Hancock on the mic, I rock it
Cary Grant cool and I’m hot like the pocket

Out of the races and onto the tracks
Ridin’ on the groove train, those the facts
So ripe it’s rotten so funky it’s fresh
This train is headin’ north by northwest

Cos I am the man who knew too much
I’m cuttin’ all the corners and ridin’ on the clutch
GK Records, fresh bran muffins
Rabbits' feet, microfilms, all the MacGuffins

When I take this mic, you might get shocked
Post hoc ergo propter hoc
Lemmings all dancin’ 'til they get cream-crackered
Takin' out gophers like my name's Carl Spackler

CHORUS
I’ve got the flow, don’t’cha know?
Here we go, vertigo
Movin’ fast, ridin’ low
Here we go, vertigo
The ladies and the holy joes
Here we go, vertigo
Feel the funk head to toe
Here we go, vertigo

I’m like Jesus, my clothes is swaddled
Savior of the party, I’m the king of twaddle
Goin’ down smooth like a bitter lemon Schweppes
Groovin’ all night, bustin’ 39 steps

Bumpin' up the tempo speedin' up the pitch
Master of suspense, I’m a son of a Hitch
I’m too skinny and my pa was too fat
Eatin’ Baby Ruths while he stared at Kim Novak

All the saboteurs, mystery lodgers
Runnin' from the law like Thornhill Roger
Killing off suckas no shadow of a doubt
1 2 3 4 kick a fucker out

It’s uno, dos, tres, y cuatro
Songs are for kids- silly Bono
If you goin’ to a place called Vertigo
Then learn to fuckin’ speak Spanish, yo

CHORUS

I got the bass- goes bump, bump
Shake, shake, shake your rump, rump
I got the bass- goes bump, bump
Shake, shake, shake your rump- break

Listen to the sound of the city/The sounds of science

I'm J-Son and I'm amorous Like Bowie I am glamorous
A Viking, I be spammin' this I'm kickin' out the jams in this
Party people happy, nobody despondent
Trottin' round the globe I'm a foreign correspondent

Burnin' down the house tearin' down the curtain
Haircut’s correct like my name’s Tim Burton
I bet when you stepped, you never expected this
Send your ass packin' like your name was Telemachus

My rhymes is esoteric, don't'cha get hysteric
I'm epic and Homeric but my beats is still numeric
Put my record on the beats'll be rockin' ya
God in the machine y'all, deus ex machina

I’m tellin’ you, sucka, you've got the wrong man
Droppin' hot rhymes and I'm drinkin' Hot Damn
If beats could kill, I’d be guilty of murder
Puttin’ fresh cheese on your soggy hamburger

CHORUS

George Kaplan Records, y’all, the fresh shit