Tag Archives: lyrics

Niggas in Paris – Jay-Z and Kanye West

So I ball so hard motherfuckers wanna fine me
First niggas gotta find me
What’s fifty grand to a motherfucker like me
Can you please remind me?
(Ball so hard) This shit crazy y’all don’t know that don’t shit faze me
The Nets could go 0 for 82 and I’d look at you like this shit gravy
(Ball so hard) This shit weird, we ain’t even ‘po’ be here
(Ball so hard) Since we here it’s only right that we be fair
Psycho, I’m liable to go Michael, take your pick:
Jackson, Tyson, Jordan, Game 6
(Ball so hard) Got a broke clock, Rolleys that don’t tick tock
Audemars that’s losing time, hidden behind all these big rocks
(B-ball so hard) I’m shocked too, I’m supposed to be locked up too
You escaped what I escaped
You’d be in Paris getting fucked up too
(B-ball so hard) Let’s get faded, Le Meurice for like 6 days
Gold bottles, scold models, spillin’ Ace on my sick J’s
(Ball so hard) Bitch, behave, just might let you meet ‘Ye
Chi town’s D. Rose, I’m moving the Nets to BK


Audemars Piguet have manual movements that have to be wound daily to keep accurate time. It’s hard to wind these crazy-expensive watches when you have so many you can’t find most of them or you have so many you can’t be bothered to wind them.

And while it is now easier to replicate the motion, and there are actually a few Rolexes that do actually “tick-tock”, it used to be that the best way to spot a fake Rolex was to watch its second hand. If it ticked every second it was probably fake, because the real ones gave off the illusion that they were “sweeping” around the dial. So when Jay says he has Rolleys that don’t tick-tock, he means that they are authentic.


The reason his Audemars Piguet timepiece would be losing time is due to the aerodynamic drag brought on by the heavy diamonds (big rocks) the watch’s hour and minute hands are adorned with.


Jay could be referencing gravitational time dilation here; where time moves relatively slower in proximity to strong gravitational forces. He is basically saying that the rocks in his watch are so big (presumably with more gravity), that they distort the time of the actual watch relative to the rest of the Earth; therefore, the Audemars are perpetually losing time with respect to the widely accepted atomic clock.

Rap Genius

God – John Lennon

I don’t believe in magic I don’t believe in I Ching I don’t believe in Bible I don’t believe in Tarot I don’t believe in Hitler I don’t believe in Jesus I don’t believe in Kennedy I don’t believe in Buddha I don’t believe in Mantra I don’t believe in Gita I don’t believe in Yoga I don’t believe in Kings I don’t believe in Elvis I don’t believe in Zimmerman I don’t believe in Beatles

I just believe in me, Yoko and me

Countdown – Pulp

I was seventeen when I heard the countdown start

It started slowly, I thought it was my heart

But then I realised this time it was for real

There was no place to hide, I had to go out and feel

But there was time to kill, I walked my way round town

I tried to love the world but the world just got me down

So I looked for you in every street of every town

I wanna see your face, I wanna, I wanna see you now


And so it went, so it went for several years

I couldn’t stand it, it must be getting near

Oh no you just don’t know, no you just don’t understand

How many times I’ve seen you in the arms of some other man

I’ve got to meet you and find you and take you by the hand

My God, my God, you’ve gotta understand

That I was seventeen! I didn’t know a thing at all

I’ve got no reason, no reason at all

An Architect’s Dream – Kate Bush

That bit there, it was an accident

But he’s so pleased

It’s the best mistake, he could make

And it’s my favourite piece

It’s just great

The flick of a wrist

Twisting down to the hips

So the lovers begin, with a kiss

In a tryst

It’s just a smudge

But what it becomes

In his hands…

Curving and sweeping

Rising and reaching

I could feel what he was feeling

Lines like these have got to be

An architect’s dream

Sheffield: Sex City – Pulp

Intake, Manor Park, The Wicker, Norton, Frecheville, Hackenthorpe, Shalesmoor, Wombwell, Catcliffe, Brincliffe, Attercliffe, Ecclesall, Woodhouse, Wybourn, Pitsmoor, Badger, Wincobank, Crookes, Walkley, Broomhill


I was only about eleven when this happened. We were living in a big block of flats with a central courtyard. All the bedroom windows in the building opened onto this court, and sometimes in the middle of the night, in that building it sounded like a mass orgy. I may have been only eleven, but no-one had to tell me what all that moaning and yelling was about. I’d lie there mesmerised, listening to the first couple. Invariably, they’d wake up other couples, and like some kind of chain reaction, within minutes the whole building was fucking. I mean, have you ever heard other people fucking, and really enjoying it? It’s a marvellous sound. Not like in the movies, but when it’s real. It’s such a happy, exciting sound.


The sun rose from behind the gasometers at 6:30am, crept through the gap in your curtains and caressed your bare feet poking from beneath the floral sheets. I watched him flaking bits of varnish from your nails trying to work his way up under the sheets. Jesus, even the sun’s on heat today, the whole city getting stiff in the building heat.


The day didn’t go too well, too many chocolates and cigarettes, I kept thinking of you and almost walking into lampposts. Why is it so hot? (Peace Gardens, yeah!) The air coming to the boil, rubbing up against walls and lampposts trying to get rid of it. Old women clack their tongues in the shade of crumbling concrete bus shelters. Dogs doing it, in central reservations, and causing multiple pile-ups in the centre of town. I didn’t want to go in the first place but I’ve been sentenced to three years in the housing benefit waiting room. I must have lost your number in the all-night garage and now I’m wandering up and down your street calling your name. In the rain. Whilst my shoes turn to sodden cardboard.


We finally made it… on a hilltop at 4am. The whole city is your jewellery box. A million twinkling yellow street lights. Reach out and take what you want. You can have it all. Jesus, it took a long time. I didn’t think we were going to make it. So bad during the day, but now snug and warm under an eiderdown sky. All the things we saw: everyone on Park Hill came in unison at 4.13am and the whole block fell down. The tobacconist caught fire and everyone in the street died of lung cancer. We heard groans from a T-reg Chevette: You bet, you bet, yeah.

David’s Last Summer – Pulp

The room smells faintly of sun tan lotion
In the evening sunlight and when you take off your clothes
You’re still wearing a small pale skin bikini
The sound of children playing in the park comes from faraway
And time slows down to the speed of the specks of dust
Floating in the light from the window
Summer leaves fall from Summer trees
Summer grazes fade on Summer knees
Summer nights are slowly getting long
Summer’s going, hurry soon it’ll be gone
So we went out to the park at midnight one last time
Past the abandoned glasshouse stuffed full of dying palms
Past the bandstand and down to the boating lake
And we swam in the moonlight for what seemed like hours
Until we couldn’t swim anymore
And when we came out of the water we sensed a certain movement in the air
And we both shivered slightly and ran to collect our clothes
And as we walked home we could hear the leaves curling and turning
Brown on the trees
And the birds deciding where to go for Winter
And the whole sound
The whole sound of Summer packing its bags and preparing to leave town