Urthboy - No Rider lyrics
rate meI was working as an MC the other day With a cup o’ instant coffee and some marmalade It’s hard to play when just wanna run away It’s underlay underlay since underage Then the phone rang “It’s Urthboy here, I’m Elefant Traks just like Kenny Sabir “Hi, someone led me to believe you’re an MC I’ve got an offer that would maybe eve tempt me. What I meant means we give you a set fee You play at our gig for peanuts and a little prestige” So the rest see me as a success While I’m struggling to pay rent with records to press But yes I agree to it, how can you not? Thinking of the fluid with the international slot I’ve got no time for rhymers, slash social climbers It’s just another gig I’m doing for the rider There is no rider my friend, so why we doing this then? We all go broke by night end (like, broke as hell, can’t you tell) Leave the house, lock the door, catch the train Or the bus it’s a rush tame the peak hour crush to the venue, nothing but trouble on the menu Cock-rocking headstrong soundmen to get through This shit can really send you to the pub next door Either that or make sure he leaves with a broken jaw (Ahh) nah man I’m just joking around Just hoping to soundcheck without choking this clown I’m just about over it now and I’m not hopeful Can I get a test vocal from the pleb locals This opals got rough edges and a hard centre I’m doing it for the love music’s my warm sweater Kinda like a second placenta so when I enter In performance endeavours there’s Desmond Decker-like measure And ever different, but listen, there is that divider Drink up cos the other act will steal all ya rider I was working as an MC the other night With a couple shitty mics and an appetite Cook MCs like, look it’s a parasite Eat em up but first wipe the dirt out of sight I’m your superman’s cryptonite talkback shock jock sponsorship, politicians dirty money Saw you coming from a mile away you got the right-of-way yeah that’s what all the rhymers say I’m inclined to play cos in the end it’s entertainment Crafted and created, loungeroom and the basement Break-in, and of the things stolen by the sly crooks Cash, backpack, laptop and rhymebook Start from scratch, and scrap the last seventy-ish Pull out every single hair and tear em to bits Material things, gone with the pied piper (Okay winona, I’ll do it for the Ryder)