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NIRVANA lyrics - Unplugged In New York

The Priest They Called Him

Original and similar lyrics
'Fight tuberculosis, folks.' Christmas Eve, an old junkie selling Christmas seals on North Park Street. The 'Priest,' they called him. 'Fight tuberculosis, folks.' People hurried by, gray shadows on a distant wall. It was getting late and no money to score. He turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a knife. Cab stop just ahead under a streetlight. Boy got out with a suitcase. Thin kid in prep school clothes, familiar face, the Priest told himself, watching from the doorway. 'Remindsme of something a long time ago.' The boy, there, with his overcoat unbuttoned, reaching into his pants pocket for the cab fare. The cab drove away and turned the corner. The boy went inside a building. 'Hmm, yes, maybe' - the suitcase was there in the doorway. The boy nowhere in sight. Gone to get the keys, most likely, have to move fast. He picked up the suitcase and started for the corner. Made it. Glanced down at the case. It didn't look like the case the boy had, or any boy would have. The Priest couldn't put his finger on what was so old about the case. Old and dirty, poor quality leather, and heavy. Better see what's inside. He turned into Lincoln Park, found an empty place and opened the case. Two severed human legs that belonged to a young man with dark skin. Shiny black leg hairs glittered in the dim streetlight. The legs had been forced into the case and he had to use his knee on the back of the case to shove them out. 'Legs, yet,' he said, and walked quickly away with the case. Might bring a few dollars to score. The buyer sniffed suspiciously. 'Kind of a funny smell about it.' 'It's just Mexican leather.' 'Well, some joker didn't cure it.' The buyer looked at the case with cold disfavor. 'Not even right sure he killed it, whatever it is. Three is the best I can do and it hurts. But since this is Christmas and you're the Priest...' he slipped three bills under the table into the Priest's dirty hand. The Priest faded into the street shadows, seedy and furtive. Three cents didn't buy a bag, nothing less than a nickel. Say, remember that old Addie croaker told me not to come back unless I paid him the three cents I owe him. Yeah, isn't that a fruit for ya, blow your stack about three lousy cents. The doctor was not pleased to see him. 'Now, what do you WANT I TOLD you!' The Priest laid three bills on the table. The doctor put the money in his pocket and started to scream. 'I've had TROUBLES! PEOPLE have been around! I may lose my LICENSE!' The Priest just sat there, eyes, old and heavy with years of junk, on the doctor's face. 'I can't write you a prescription.' The doctor jerked open a drawer and slid an ampule across the table. 'That's all I have in the OFFICE!' The doctor stood up. 'Take it and GET OUT!' he screamed, hysterical. The Priest's expression did not change. The doctor added in quieter tones, 'After all, I'm a professional man, and I shouldn't be bothered by people like you.' 'Is that all you have for me One lousy quarter G Couldn't you lend me a nickel...' 'Get out, get out, I'll call the police I tell you.' 'All right, doctor, I'm going.' Of course it was cold and far to walk, rooming house, a shabby street, room on the top floor. 'These stairs,' coughed the Priest there, pulling himself up along the bannister. He went into the bathroom, yellow wall panels, toilet dripping, and got his works from under the washbasin. Wrapped in brown paper, back to his room, get every drop in the dropper. He rolled up his sleeve. Then he heard a groan from next door, room eighteen. The Mexican kid lived there, the Priest had passed him on the stairs and saw the kid was hooked, but he never spoke, because he didn't want any juvenile connections, bad news in any language. The Priest had had enough bad news in his life. He heard the groan again, a groan he could feel, no mistaking that groan and what it meant. 'Maybe he had an accident or something. In any case, I can't enjoy my priestly medications with that sound coming through the wall.' Thin walls you understand. The Priest put down his dropper, cold hall, and knocked on the door of room eighteen. 'Quien es' 'It's the Preist, kid, I live next door.' He could hear someone hobbling across the floor. A bolt slid. The boy stood there in his underwear shorts, eyes black with pain. He started to fall. The Priest helped him over to the bed. 'What's wrong, son' 'It's my legs, senor, cramps, and now I am without medicine.' The Priest could see the cramps, like knots of wood there in the young legs, dark shiny black leg hairs. 'A few years ago I damaged myself in a bicycle race, it was then that the cramps started.' And now he has the leg cramps back with compound junk interest. The old Priest stood there, feeling the boy groan. He inclined his head as if in prayer, went back and got his dropper. 'It's just a quarter G, kid.' 'I do not require much, senor.' The boy was sleeping when the Priest left room eighteen. He went back to his room and sat down on the bed. Then it hit him like heavy silent snow. All the gray junk yesterdays. He sat there received the immaculate fix. And since he was himself a priest, there was no need to call one.

Doo Wop

LAURYN HILL
It's been three weeks since you've been looking for your friend The one you let hit it and never called you again 'Member when he told you he was 'bout the Benjamins You act like you ain't hear him then gave him a little trim To begin, how you think you really gon' pretend Like you wasn't down then you called him again Plus when you give it up so easy you ain't even fooling him If you did it then, then you probably fuck again Talking out your neck sayin' you're a Christian A Muslim sleeping with the gin Now that was the sin that did Jezebel in Who you gon' tell when the repercussions spin Showing off your ass 'cause you're thinking it's a trend Girlfriend, let me break it down for you again You know I only say it 'cause I'm truly genuine Don't be a hardrock when you're really a gem Babygirl, respect is just a minimum Niggas fucked up and you still defending them Now Lauryn is only human Don't think I haven't been through the same predicament Let it sit inside your head like a million women in Philly, Penn. It's silly when girls sell their soul because it's in Look at where you be in hair weaves like Europeans Fake nails done by Koreans Come again Come again, come again, come again, come again Guys you know you better watch out Some girls, some girls are only about That thing, that thing, that thing The second verse is dedicated to the men More concerned with his rims and his Timbs than his women Him and his men come in the club like hooligans Don't care who they offend popping yang like you got yen Let's not pretend, they wanna pack pistol by they waist men Cristal by the case men, still in they mother's basement The pretty face, men claiming that they did a bid men Need to take care of their three and four kids men They facing a court case when the child's support late Money taking, heart breaking now you wonder why women hate men The sneaky silent men the punk domestic violence men The quick to shoot the semen stop acting like boys and be men How you gon' win when you ain't right within How you gon' win when you ain't right within How you gon' win when you ain't right within Come again Come again, come again, come again, come again Girls you know you better watch out Some guys, some guys are only about That thing, that thing, that thing

Maintenance

AESOP ROCK "Daylight"
[Aesop Rock] Count that for me...thanks [Robotic voice 4x] One, two, one, two, three, four [Aesop Rock] Well any asshole with a book of matches can light a fire fresh Make that sucker burn for days, I'll be impressed Circlin past the culture's bigot, procreation baked in advanceable Then ball and scurry up the grass to roll his marbles off the anthill I know gerth and nature but recognize absentee ballot And sappy ballads couldn't fill the void This game's in the giant Tugboat Complex and HE'S ANNOYED! (No one's asking you to feel the narc, brother!) Hmm, it's fashion I'll find my own bullies to shake a finger wrapped in Realigned mine knives in divine justice Plus this uncontrollable laugh with those ample waves of brain finally crash Brimstone clone with legs and dim poems Ten little Zen crafts Things cooperate like paper dog participants litigans Picket well or ride or burner style clinic Acid with the basics P-H imbalance to burn the malice martyrs spaceless Then fabricate daytrips I want to be the halo that jumps off the brain Of the genius who decided some pictures deserved frames (God and I are on a first name basis) Yeah I call him God, he calls me Jesus When I lost my religion, he fell to pieces Blade, dragon, up hell's creek Interrupting a devil pagent Starfighter settling to madness I keep my ghoul spirit concealed Until the warriors return to the Coney Isle Wonder Wheel [Chorus 4x] My momma told me there'd be days like this Days like this, days like this, days like this (yes she did) [Robotic voice 4x] One, two, one, two, three, four [Aesop Rock] Okay, tell me who you chill with and I'll tell you who you are I walk a mile with a leash attached to your freak seminar It's a modern sensation on the boulevard of maintenance To sweep your broken hopes under the rugs then hug the playpen This revolution pushing through the loose pins and a strait jacket A maverick classed in a bunk category They had him parallel with a tattered glory division (I could devil drink dreams out of thermos) Yeah, with a whiskey afterburn It's like, nine o'clock wake (I'm up) spit obscentities My girl ties on my cape, smoke a bone then work my dental tree The clear day's laced with a classic mother nature thunderchaser set That got my papergrain's wings wet Voyeurist amendments lack expansive coverage in the syllabus I dance with shuckles while you man the keyhole grilling code I've done my chores according to God's schedule With coffee holding the wheel and nicotine working the pedals Metal edge kings that tends to rapel the pebble Kettle screaching out the operetta I live to autograph the iron curtain with doveback feather pens Spurting magma, cursing television urns to burn until my Cleopatra Minor (Major) dispersed slap on the wrist For the tennants lacking the arms to harbor the rarity of thick friendship Stuck with a "Yes sir" Change of fatigue to ankle Each beneath the angle I'ma call home until the rock meets the angels [Chorus 4x] [Robotic voice - repeat to fade] One, two, one, two, three, four

Out

PAC DIV "Mania"
[Verse 1: Like] The school teachers talk, I been had answers Knew the whole story without reading all the chapters Going back and forth about my life plans after Most my niggas would rather slang that work for NASA Days in the classes Always fall asleep bugging Most the tests and the quizzes didn't mean nothing Only niggas moving on were ones seen hustling Those that didn't never got to see nothing But you zoom back to me functioning Tried to ball wasn't tall enough to be dunking Young black male trying to make his dreams public I know it had to be something I'm out [Hook: x2] I'm gonna get out of this house I'm gonna make my family proud I'm a show this world what I'm all about I'm out [Verse 2: BeYoung] Damn, I been dreaming of this day A moment we can finally get away Ain't right times before when I was trying get a date Hungry at the crib, broke, trying get a plate That was for the fun, though Gung-ho Used to the struggle Used to the labels saying "Look, we don't want you" Used to the ladies saying "Look, we don't want you" Now we on ya cable saying "Look what we come to" I sorta like haters now We need em in the world they make the place go round Funny how Everything is so tasteful now Hip Hop ain't never died it just changed it's style How do I look? Get my good side when you click it I got your girl smiling at me now when we kick it Still down to earth holla at me we can kick it Smoke on it we get caught you can pay the ticket... I'm fucking with you [Hook] [Verse 3: Mibbs] Well, everything's packed up Nothing left in the closet but the black tux And I'm a keep it right there it was bad luck Cause I ain't even went to prom, man, that sucks So I'm a say goodbye to the room you saw me grow up in No more G.I. Joe and no Teddy Ruxpin This the same room where I first fell in love in Brittany came over and I got my first nothing And I'm a miss it Washing all the dishes Feeding all the fishes Even on Christmas All the fun visits That old trash bag full of empty SunKisses So before I walked out that door My momma prayed for me and my pop said "Boy You know the world is yours There's nothing that can stop what God has in store" I'm out... [Hook]

Player's Ball

OUTKAST "Big Boi & Dre Present Outkast"
Intro: Scene was so thick, low rides, seventy-seven Sevilles El Dawgs, nuttin but them 'llacs All the players, all the hustlers, i'm talking about Black man heaven, yah know what i'm saying? Peace Verse One: it's beginnin to look a lot like what? follow my every step take notes on how i creep I's bout ta go in deep this is the way i creep my season here's my ghetto rep i kept to say the least no no it can't cease so i begin to piece my two and two together gots no snowy weather have to find something to do better bet! i said subtract so shut up that nonsense about some solid nine i got say crock if it ain't real it ain't right i'm like no matter what the season forever chill with spin i get my fin i chill with less and got my reasons so tell me what did you expect? you thought i'd break my neck to help y'all deck the halls oh now i got nuther means of celebratin i'm gettin biz to that ho-jo i gots the hoochie waitin i made it through to another year cain't ask fo much mo it's Outkast for the boots i thought you knew so now you know let's go Chorus all the players came from far and wide wearing afros and braids in every gangstar ride now i'm here to tell yah there's a better day when the player ball is happenin on christmas day Verse Two hallelujah hallelujah yah know i do some things more different than i used ta coz i'm a player doing what the players do the package store is closed okay my deck is woofin this is rediculus i'm gettin serious i'm gettin curious coz the house is smelling sick of chitlins all this vicious i make no wishes coz the modern folk is in the back gettin tipsy off the nog-en and i's in a hellova contact smoke they havin a smoke out in my back seat they passing herb reminding verses coz it's in the air i hit the parks hit the cuts i'm makin switches clicking the switches side ta side lookin for bitches watchin for snitches i'm wide open on the freeway my pager broke my vibe coz a junkie is a junkie three sixty five it's just another day of work to me the spirit just ain't in me grab my pistol and my ounce see what they junkies got to give me coz it's like that, yeah clever pimpin, never slipin, that's how it is [check it!] Verse Three ain't no chimminies in the ghetto so i won't be hangin my socks on no tip how far does it tick fix me a drink i got the remedy so bring in that ham [not!] don't need no ham [hocks!] don't play me like i'm smokin rocks i got the money we gots the freaks in the dungeon just to let you know coz in ninety three that's how we comin so hoe hoe hoes check my king ass fro the gin and juice gots me tipsy so on it goes hit me ten and i'll serve you then now we in the corner in my cadillac my heart does not go pitty pat for no rat i'm leaning back my elbows out the windows cold rhyming indo fills my body where's the party we rode deep we dip to underground see's a lot of hoes around i split my game while waiting count down a five fo a three two here comes the one a do yah have me copy folks spark another one here's a little something for all the players out there hustling, gettin down for theirs, from east point, college park, decatur, devrai, you know world wide, down for theirs

The Stick-Up

ACTION BRONSON "Well-Done"
The tangible goods, that's all I'm interested in Bronsolini and I'm better than the best of them With the power invested in me, '93 on the vest with the ski The watch spin perpetually, time for compensation Babies need shoes, Bronson keep pounds of weed only three brews Long jackets, curly hair like I'm Hebrew Fabric with the green ink had been the root of evil Gotta get it on the late night, sun rise Ain't never trynna see the look of sorrow in my son's eyes What about a refill of the ganja when the blunt dies New Yorker Mangold see me playing on the front lines Two sixty five eight, the beard gumbo Three pointers in the park for a clean hundo Cream Caddies, hookers in the back of it Spectacular shit, the resume immaculate [Hook:] Better have my money Quit the bullshit, it's a stick up Better have my money Quit the bullshit, it's a stick up Yo, vicious chowder Asian bitches sniffin' powder Bronsolene catch me creepin' at the sicko hour 992 is scripted on the balance Got talent, but all we really love is valence Laid in the palace like a sultan Polo on my back cover the Carhartt king And that's for certain, hung like a curtain Pussies get the drapes Motherfucker know you in the Planet of the Apes shit Dusty bottles from a cellar in a foreign land Dr. Lecter, digging in your sister's rectum Sweetbreads and capers, Martusciello to evade the danger But I really wanna taste the paper Golden bars from the treasury, spit cleverly I'll leave it neverly, lappin' in the Beverly Deadly medley, mashing on the pedal, B Light on my complexion but I'm heavy on the celery [Hook]

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