Social Waste

Now our lyrics are heard to the ends of the earth
Maybe they creep out the monsters a little
All these monsters you see on the news
But also those you’ll never get to encounter
Now a three generation audience attend our concerts
And the kids in the hoods listen to us
Our lyrics are a thorn in their dreams
And our hiphop is the peak in their festivals
Now the once quaints have become braw
And all the managers are like “how did this happen?”
Now stages and theaters are packed
And our views like our lyrics.. are countless
The once kids are now grown ups
And even teachers rap with our songs
And the outcasts of art are now heard
In all the school feasts and parades

They’ll be endlessly strolling the streets
The guys in the baggy pants
In ports, stations and wagons
The guys in the baggy pants
Took a vow not to let themselves turn into pawns
The guys in the baggy pants
In their songs they asked for compassion
The guys in the baggy pants

An XL t-shirt, baggy pants and a beanie
In the cities people stared them like UFOs
In Syntagma, Tsimiski, Psila Alonia
The guys in baggy pants
And like the sculptors soften the clay at first
They studied so as to learn how to write
And then again What an irony, what a contrast!
They engaged in creative composition
So now that it’s been 20 years
Now that the baggy pants’ colors have faded
Now that the paint in the spray bottle is gone
And the “so called alternative” and “acting as if”
attend our concerts
We reminisced out vow to never allow
Ourselves to become like all those we despise
Bent, snitches and pimps
Slimy dudes named in 9 letters…

They’ll be endlessly strolling the streets
The guys in the baggy pants
In ports, stations and wagons
The guys in the baggy pants
Took a vow not to let themselves turn into pawns
The guys in the baggy pants
In their songs they asked for compassion
The guys in the baggy pants