Nail on the record make the beat sound raw.
Needle was wore out, had to replace it.
Face it; tape up the 'lectric wires,
So as not to cause underground club fires.
Up in the loft known as the s***e station,
From where we launch the sound vibration.
Freaks emerge from a strait-laced nation,
Professional expression of self.
Now, how many styles can the DJ drop?
Rock, Punk, Funk, Electro, Pop.
Bounce.All bounce to the echoing sounds.
Bounce to the echoing sounds.
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
Bounce to the echoing sounds.
Bounce to the echoing sounds.
Parties like this are hard to find.
The rules have never been defined.
Chaotic styles are all combined.
First thing that we do is decide we're gonna throw.
A party with a flow to make ya body swing.,
No need to act rude.
Bring a proper attitude.
It's not a f*****' contest, dude.
Back in grammar school we used to have to politic,
Who was cool with who, and who was on who's side.
Think quick; adrenalin overdrive; burned, beat, tired;
Runnin' from school yard battle cries
Untie me from this situation.
I got to get out before I get numb.
Then having gained independence from,
Jive over-dramatized circumstance;
Hook up the cable, rock the turntable;
Willing and able to blow my (all the time) mind
Invisible chameleon in the DJ booth;
Fillin' the dance floor with boomin-thumpin-b**pin',
Proof that rhythm survives for us at all cost.
This is not the land of the lost.
Parties like this...All bounce..
Is it complicated to you
If we continue to include,
All music styles in the party menu?
If it's complicted to you,
We will continue to include,
Instruction books in the party menu.
File to the metal, bust us out of our cages.
What? Accuse us of being outrageous?
We may just go through phases,
Ain't nothin' wrong with tryin' on faces.
We can go forth courageously;
Experimental sound and philosophy,
Identifying as the human family,
Constructing c**ture from an ultra-wide range,
Sonic boundaries conquered daily,
The rules can (and they always will) change.
Parties like this......Parties like this...
Needle was wore out, had to replace it.
Face it; tape up the 'lectric wires,
So as not to cause underground club fires.
Up in the loft known as the s***e station,
From where we launch the sound vibration.
Freaks emerge from a strait-laced nation,
Professional expression of self.
Now, how many styles can the DJ drop?
Rock, Punk, Funk, Electro, Pop.
Bounce.All bounce to the echoing sounds.
Bounce to the echoing sounds.
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
Bounce to the echoing sounds.
Bounce to the echoing sounds.
Parties like this are hard to find.
The rules have never been defined.
Chaotic styles are all combined.
First thing that we do is decide we're gonna throw.
A party with a flow to make ya body swing.,
No need to act rude.
Bring a proper attitude.
It's not a f*****' contest, dude.
Back in grammar school we used to have to politic,
Who was cool with who, and who was on who's side.
Think quick; adrenalin overdrive; burned, beat, tired;
Runnin' from school yard battle cries
Untie me from this situation.
I got to get out before I get numb.
Then having gained independence from,
Jive over-dramatized circumstance;
Hook up the cable, rock the turntable;
Willing and able to blow my (all the time) mind
Invisible chameleon in the DJ booth;
Fillin' the dance floor with boomin-thumpin-b**pin',
Proof that rhythm survives for us at all cost.
This is not the land of the lost.
Parties like this...All bounce..
Is it complicated to you
If we continue to include,
All music styles in the party menu?
If it's complicted to you,
We will continue to include,
Instruction books in the party menu.
File to the metal, bust us out of our cages.
What? Accuse us of being outrageous?
We may just go through phases,
Ain't nothin' wrong with tryin' on faces.
We can go forth courageously;
Experimental sound and philosophy,
Identifying as the human family,
Constructing c**ture from an ultra-wide range,
Sonic boundaries conquered daily,
The rules can (and they always will) change.
Parties like this......Parties like this...