Live Love Laugh… a philosophy for some and a colourful tongue-in-cheek anthem for others! Consummate UK artist Jaz Kahina has a marked innate ability for artistic accomplishment. She drops humorous rhymes over the beats from long time expert producer Curt Cataract on this fire new track.
No boyfriends, stylists or positive people were hurt in the making of this!
Written and performed by: Jaz Kahina
Production: Curt Cataract
Shot by: Jimi Lean Productions
Edited by: Jaz Kahina
I make that stupid, mystic euphemistic music you should listen to it
Who are you, a critic? Find your dick and put your wrist into it
Are you a cynic? Or a crystal-kissing myth-abuser
I’ll lift my mood by doing whiff and drifting with a loser
I’ll ruin this alluding to your mister – it’s a rumour
I’m who he’s with when he’s insistent that he’s in the boozer
I’m who he’s missing when he’s in a mood – the prick’s a user
Calls you a trooper in his pics with you it isn’t humour
I’m too screwed-up never Ella Mae Boo’d up
But hella mates that’ll lift my mood up
They’re all beautiful and clued up
I had a few and nearly threw up – but I didn’t hit that dude up!
Yea he wants to call me baby, wants to rock my brand new second hand Avi
Tell him that’s a maybe – but he must be crazy
That’ll be the day you see it hailing up in Hades
I think I’ve caught all your positive vibes, I’ma Live Love Laugh with your man tonight
Blowing up his phone while the planets align – well I guess youre just a mutable sign
I think I’ve clocked how to win in life: watch snakes, cut grass, keep your circle tight
And if you Live Love Laugh then you’re doing it right
Live Love Laugh then you’re doing it right
All the men and the guys the respect and like me, I can’t get them to objectify me
Not big in the scene but so sick it’s obscene – I pull my own hair when I’m flicking the bean
I’m the finest, hyper-violent, type of nihilist – cut in line and I’ll cut open your iris
Kinda childish – might just buck up on your stylist – why you have to take the nice shit and customise it?
I’m too petty, not too pretty, I’m so gritty – you’re too mimey
You’re wave-riding you’re tick-tocking, I’m deep-diving, and stay blocking
You’re fake smiling, the game’s rotten
Find me in a stupor, find me off the wagon.
Might be in the studio, might be in the salon
Might be reading Plato, Foucault or Fanon
fight me if you’re rude tho – dude, bros and anons
They hate me cos the rate me but haste to put a man on
Pasty little babies, raised by gammon
Pains me to explain it – the game needs an add-on
Same regurgitated straight, male canon