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Track: Bug Powder Dust
Artist: Bomb The Bass
Album: Clear

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Bomb The Bass Image

Name: Bomb The Bass
Spotify Genres: trip hop, acid house, hip house, big beat
Followers: 49,785
Popularity:

41/100

Biography

English musician and producer of electronic music Tim Simenon. With ‘Beat Dis’, Bomb The Bass helped mould late 1980s acid house. Tim Simenon, has led the group through a number of different incarnations. More recently Bomb The Bass have settled as a duo, vocalist Paul Conboy providing lyrical complements to Simenon’s productions. [Edited from bombthebass.com]

Source: Discogs

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Discogs Release Info

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Release: Bomb The Bass Featuring Justin Warfield - Bug Powder Dust
Year: 1994
Genres: Electronic, Hip Hop
Styles: Breakbeat, Trip Hop, Big Beat

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Source: MusicBrainz

LYRICS

Yo, I always hit the tape with the rough road styles
You heard the psychdelic and ya came from miles
Keep my rhymes thick like a Guinness brew
So you could call me black and tan when I'm a wreckin' a crew
I'm like Bill Lee writing when he's in Tangiers
And now I'm on a soul safari with my Beatnik peers
Analogue reel and a little distortion
Smokin' on somethin' s'you could say I'm scorchin'
I never been the type to brag, but beware
I'll make a man burn his draft card like it was hair
Send ya up the river like you lookin' for Kurtz
I got the mugwump jism up in every verse

Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Try like hard to not blow my cover

I always hit the apple when I'm going to shoot
So you can call me William Tell or Agent Cooper to boot
Mr. Mojo Risin' on the case again
So tell your mother and your sister and your sister's friends
Like an exterminator running low on dust
I'm bug powder itchin' and it can't be trust
Interzone trippin' and I'm off to Annexia
I gotta get a typewriter that's sexier
My name is Justin and that's all that's it
And I'll be spittin' rhymes wicked like it ain't for this shit
Houses of the Holy like Jimmy Page
But the song remains the same so I'm stuck in a rage
Just like Jane when she's going to Spain
I think I'm going away tomorrow, just a fool in the rain
Light up the candles and bless the room
I'm paranoid, snow blind, just a black meat fool

Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Try like hard to not blow my cover

Never been a fake and I'm never phony
I got more flavour than the packet in macaroni
Rock drippin' from my every vowel
I've got the soul of the sixties like Ginsberg's Howl
Shootin' mad ball and I'm always jukin'
Take you to the hole and I'm surely hoopin'
Top of the pops like the Lulu's show
I'll take a walk on Abbey Road with my shoes off, so
I got a splinter though, damn, you know man it hurt
I got a Vegemite sandwich from Men at Work
I keep minds in line, but time sublimes,
So when you search you find something like a gold mine
A psychadelic meanderings in the poem
I got a patter, patter any place that I roam
Waiting for the sun on a Spanish caravan
Solar eclipse and I'm feeling like starin' man

Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Try like hard to not blow my cover

Who's that man in the windowpane
Got somethin' on his tongue and it's startin' to stain
Sho' nuff equip so wop n'get down
Step up on my ladder and you'll get beat down
Hash bar style so I'm singin' day glow
Wakin' up the dead like Serpent and the Rainbow
Jeff Spicoli roll me another hay
The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh with Dr. J
Shockin' your ass like a faulty vibrator
Hear me now, but you'll probably get the vibe later
Who knows where the wicked wind blows
Que sera sera just leave it alone
Great Space Coaster toast up the town
Makin' midgets with my man Dr. Shrinker
Pass the hookah, throw down the pillows
Cloth on the ceiling, blow rings that billows
Kick off the shoes and relax your feet
Now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat

Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Try like hard to not blow my cover

Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Try like hard to not blow my cover

[I think it's time for you boys to share my last taste of the true black meat; the flesh of the giant, aquatic, Brazilian centipede.]