MASH UPZ

I have three hours of class time a week that are devoted solely to things Bob Dylan. I love university. Between the hours of listening and analyzing Bob Dylan songs, my mind often wanders. This is what it produces:

"Subterranean Ghetto Blues"

Johnny’s in the basement
Cooking up a new batch
I’m on the street
Thinking about the beat
The pig posted up
Steel flashed, no cash
Wants to get a new stash
Look out son
It’s something you done
Lord knows when
But you’re playing me again
You better rush back to the stuy
Looking for a new buy
Fiend in the dirty chucks
Wants two hits
But doesn’t have enough bucks

My bitch hustles back, mad fear
Face full of tears, something’s wrong
Saying that the heats on
Packed up the crack but
The phones tapped anyway
World’s coming down in early may
Snitch hooked up to the D.A.
Look out son
Don’t matter what you done
Walk on your tip toes
Better stay away from those
That claim they got a lot of dough
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don’t need an accountant
To know how my cash flows

Get rich, get paid
Stay in the crib and get laid
The page beeps, hard to tell
If this birds gonna sell
Blast hits, your pissed
Fuck the ER and try to run far
Get grabbed, put upstate
Trust was your first mistake
Look out son
You might be the one
Boys on the block
Been rats since day one
Hoe at the spot in the tub
Looking for a back rub
Don’t trip
Shoulda watched your shit

Ah back up, furs warm
ROCA pants, romance, homies don’t dance
Stay fly, stay blessed
Keep your game a success
Fuck her, fuck him, cap them
No further education
And they put you in the burger pen
Look out son
They keep it all wrapped
Better push past and
Flip them flaps
Stay outta scandals
On the beach with Gucci sandals
Now you thought you won
But the cake ain’t coming
‘Cause the spics trying to pull shit

Original lyrics to "Subterranean Homesick Blues" HERE.