Bam! I’ll explode, just like I were a bomb flying over Vietnam high with my Uncle Tom. Or sitting in a cabin having a sip of tea, while a parrot sings a song in the minor key of C, to inspire me, so we will see, this neurotic harmony that develops sonically. I’ll be writing my plan out with a needle, I’ll make you twist and shout and think I was Beatle. Like Lennon or Stalin in a car that won’t start, if your Volvo is stallin’ then you need to learn the art of mechanics. Don’t panic, even though I’m galvanic! I’m the only non-Hispanic on the Mexican Titanic. My loops go round and round, just like a carousel, coming out my BR-8, like I was William Tell. If you haven’t heard my name, I hope it rings a bell, because I’m the only guy who knows what happened at Roswell. [CHORUS] Yes I’m an alien, I come from outer space. Yes I’m an alien, I’m going to rock this place. Some people say I’m not funny, I say okay, I can’t sell records here, I’m huge in the UK. British people tell me to keep rocking on, you might have heard me down in London rocking heads with this song. I was sad when I found out about Santa Claus, so I made like Tim Allen and broke some local laws. I moved way up north and grew a beard, now relatives and friends think I’m kind of weird. But did you think I was heretic when I danced in that church like an unemployed crustacean chewing on a birch? I’m addicted to shark meat and books by Mark Twain and eating Novocain shipped from the Ukraine. My name’s not Matthew, but thanks for asking! I live in California, because I’m not Alaskan. But that’s okay, what can I say? My real home is actually light years away. [REPEAT CHORUS] You want poetry? Go read Robert Frost, the simile in hip-hop is essentially lost, like a tearful pallbearer carrying a body, or a giant pink Care Bare acting snotty. Where can it go? I just don’t know, but check out this funky alphabet flow: it’s like A-B-C-D-E-F-G- H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P, and ICP on LSD or ABC or MTV or the new PC you got for free from Circuit City in Albuquerque. I be the VIP MC on this CD, the name’s MC Lars Horris, as you can see. So where do I start, and where do I begin? Yo, it’s tough to be a funky fresh alien. [REPEAT CHORUS]
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Copy to Clipboard: Bam! I’ll explode, just like I were a bomb flying over Vietnam high with my Uncle Tom. Or sitting in a cabin having a sip of tea, while a parrot sings a song in the minor key of C, to inspire me, so we will see, this neurotic harmony that develops sonically. I’ll be writing my plan out with a needle, I’ll make you twist and shout and think I was Beatle. Like Lennon or Stalin in a car that won’t start, if your Volvo is stallin’ then you need to learn the art of mechanics. Don’t panic, even though I’m galvanic! I’m the only non-Hispanic on the Mexican Titanic. My loops go round and round, just like a carousel, coming out my BR-8, like I was William Tell. If you haven’t heard my name, I hope it rings a bell, because I’m the only guy who knows what happened at Roswell. [CHORUS] Yes I’m an alien, I come from outer space. Yes I’m an alien, I’m going to rock this place. Some people say I’m not funny, I say okay, I can’t sell records here, I’m huge in the UK. British people tell me to keep rocking on, you might have heard me down in London rocking heads with this song. I was sad when I found out about Santa Claus, so I made like Tim Allen and broke some local laws. I moved way up north and grew a beard, now relatives and friends think I’m kind of weird. But did you think I was heretic when I danced in that church like an unemployed crustacean chewing on a birch? I’m addicted to shark meat and books by Mark Twain and eating Novocain shipped from the Ukraine. My name’s not Matthew, but thanks for asking! I live in California, because I’m not Alaskan. But that’s okay, what can I say? My real home is actually light years away. [REPEAT CHORUS] You want poetry? Go read Robert Frost, the simile in hip-hop is essentially lost, like a tearful pallbearer carrying a body, or a giant pink Care Bare acting snotty. Where can it go? I just don’t know, but check out this funky alphabet flow: it’s like A-B-C-D-E-F-G- H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P, and ICP on LSD or ABC or MTV or the new PC you got for free from Circuit City in Albuquerque. I be the VIP MC on this CD, the name’s MC Lars Horris, as you can see. So where do I start, and where do I begin? Yo, it’s tough to be a funky fresh alien. [REPEAT CHORUS]
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