Read all about it: Jehst‘s ‘Daily Planet‘ delivers a damning bulletin as “the strong and silent type – yeah, Gary fu*king Cooper“, while “up in Buckingham Palace planting dynamite“. Wordplay flowing like he’s on a deadline and delivering a hook bound to make front page news the world over.
Co-anchor Confucius MC (“David Lynch with the pad and the beat“) joins in the attempts to unplug the propaganda machine, as a light entertainment, soft rock ensemble courtesy of producer Mr Brown buoyantly scores another regular day in Metropolis.
Jehst
- https://www.facebook.com/jehstofficial
- https://twitter.com/jehstofficial
- https://www.instagram.com/jehstofficial/
Confucious MC:
- Website: http://www.ynr-productions.co.uk
- Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/YNRProductions
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/YNRProductions/
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/YNRProductions
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/YNRProductions/
- Bandcamp: https://ynrproductions.bandcamp.com/
Lyrics
(Jehst)
Faced daily with this crazy madness
Working two jobs
Writing for the Daily Planet
Kryptochronolite
Smoking like I’m Katt Williams
Tagging
Fat caps dripping
Who the cap fitting?
Just wear that
And play that position
Gift of the Gab
My Lyrics Born Blackalicious
The Great White Hype
I break that tradition
Got ’em brainbox scratching
And grey matter itching
My light bulb flashing
They’re lights camera
But no action
They write vulgar
With no passion
I write MK Ultra
Control thought
Stockpile for Armageddon
And hold fort
Rottweiler wilding
My saliva spraying
Fuck this pussy
And what any other vagina saying
I’ma find a way in
I’ma ride the wave
Until I reach Point Break
Then I’m Patrick Swayze
I’m Nas in that Illmatic phase
I’m Kenshiro
Fist of the North Star anime
Receiving accolades
My whole team
With the V for Vendetta masks
Breaking down your barricades
I’m a Barracuda
So don’t try and scuba
Light the Scooby Doo
Moving like Saiyan Super
Just trying to retire to Bermuda
The strong and silent type
Yeah – Gary fucking Cooper
Obba Supa
When the clock strikes the witching hour
Whisk the egg and the flour
Make the cake tower
Take power
Break bread with the common man
Overstand
That’s your brother from a foreign land
From another mother’s womb
But we’re one blood
Two times for your mind
Third eye opened up
Mr Brown
Blow the dust off the old plastic
Turn that hot shit
To a stone cold classic
Even coke addicts
Couldn’t go line for line
I got God status kid
I’m divine with mine
You got dropped to the canvas
In the title fight
I’m up in Buckingham Palace
Planting dynamite
We’re dealing with this madness
On the daily
Feels as though the whole planet
Is going crazy
Front page Daily Planet
Read the headline
In this Metropolis
Where everyone is on the breadline
(Confucius MC)
Faced daily with this crazy nonsense
It’s confusing
Seeing grown men
Having lady problems
Face the future
But reminded of the eighties often
Train hard and face hurdles
Like Daley Thompson
Pay per view
To the pay for views
While the nation chews
On the newspaper’s views
Trying to sell it to the youths
But they ain’t enthused
Cos we’re telling them it’s rigged
In every game they choose
It’s the age of the Midnight Cowboy
With no luck
Nobody taught us how to act
Trying to be grown ups
Heavy hearted
Yo – writing with the light beaming
And feel my enemies pain
Like the Crying Freeman
Rhyme and Reason
Every piece is a collage
Reflected through me
To the streets with the bollards
Conflicted scholars
Looking for some peace
We got ours through the streets
With its twisted offers
While the twisted coppers
Patrol the grey clouds for silver
Destroy but won’t empower a builder
The lonely hour’ll kill ya
So they keep the phony powder familiar
Just in case they’re faced with feeling inferior
What I reveal is interior
David Lynch with a pad and a beat
Open your mind
And play the track on repeat
Like – hit me with the facts
With just a dash of deceit
I’ll meet you there
Eyes clamped open
Strapped in the seat
It’s in the air that we share
No sense of belonging
While we peel another layer
Off the Clockwork Orange
Just fields of strange fruit
Souls for the harvest
We’re all doomed
If there’s no soul in the artist
They used to say the globe was flat
Now it’s slanted
So I bless you
With that ill shit you demanded
No harness
High wire flows from the farthest
Fine chro’s the garnish
Bruv – my rhyme book’s a Tardis
Dr Tenma
Your rap is like Dr.Pepper
Your face ain’t sitting right like Dr Jekyll
Twist the reefer in the death note
Chop the petal
You’re busy backing for the beef
Between the pot and kettle