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Tech Nine, Colt .45

Driving and flying, while listening to music and dreaming, I have been thinking more and more about poetry.  Recently, I’ve written a few poems and some lyrics, and am gonna start peppering them into this blog.  The idea of this one is to fuse hip hop and blues.  The hook will be Fenton’s Robinson’s “Somebody Loan Me a Dime.”  The plan is to get together with my friend Roel, lay down some music, and try to record this.

Tech Nine, Colt .45

I’m a gangster, I’m supposed to be strong.

I’m a gangster, I’m supposed to be strong.

But you’re gone. Feel so old and used.

Wanna be hip hop, but these are the blues.

Somebody loan me a dime… I wanna call my old time used to be.  Somebody loan me a dime…  I wanna call my old time used to be.

Had a Lamborghini, traded for a dented Cadillac,

Took out the Alpine, put in eight track.

Left a safe, filled with cash and stocks.

What I have now fits in a match box.

Yacht at the pier, because of you, rusted through,

Like a fishing boat, abandoned in a Bayou.

Won’t go back to my princely home,

I’ll take a pallet on a floor and leave me alone.

Used to be friends with men who fix the fights,

Now I’m the dying crapshooter shooting dice.

Plasma TV’s look like box tubes.

Jet planes look like B-42’s.

Demon’s on my trail,  Demon’s on my trail,

Demon’s on my trail, won’t win this race.

There’s no chance I’ll sing: Amazing Grace.

I used to flow like a line from a tech nine.

I used to flow like a line from a tech nine

Now I’m a Colt .45 with a cocked back hammer.

Somebody loan me a dime… I wanna call my old time used to be.  Somebody loan me a dime… I wanna call my old time used to be.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkG3kvcej74[/youtube]

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