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The Vortex feat. Dizraeli

from Lit​-​Hop by Baba Brinkman

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about

Featuring Dizraeli

lyrics

I smoked up at fourteen with romantic notions
Of poets across the Atlantic Ocean doped up on morphine
I was hoping the stuff would be an infinite source of dreams
I wanted to see if it was a portal to the immortal stream
Or just a weed; so I sowed the seeds
Hoping there was more to see, and with more attempts
To score a glimpse into the vortex of hemp’s
Female sex organs, I was just more convinced
Of the transformative potential of my distorted senses
With the doors of perception open everything gets more intense
Every chore is an adventure and trip to the store a quest
To explore foreign destinations, or a test
Of orientation, if you forget your address
My objective was to lower stress
But the side effects were quite the opposite
With blood clots in my eye sockets
My optical field was myopic
Short sighted, I would often fly off topic
Preoccupied by the microscopic
I entirely lost sight of my higher project
Plus I was exhausted; time for a diagnostic
From Betty Ford; I guess I was ready for it
Before I knew it I was twenty-four
And I couldn’t think of any reason to do it any more

Dr. Greenthumb, why’d you stop my dreams comin’?
Numbin’ me slow, leavin’ my mind stream stumblin’
Drainin’ me dry of my deep need to be somethin’
Put my feet up and I’m a slave to weed burnin’

Curled up in a fetal position, a baby on bean-bag
Evil visions flutter ‘round me as I lean back
Seein’ spiders creeping in the shadows on the ceiling
Insects steal inside my neckline, I can feel ‘em
Even my friends are mocking me, I can hear it
In their vocal tones, social misfit losing hope alone
I need a cup of tea, and a blanket to cover me
Feelin’ uppity; can’t catch the subtleties
But for some reason I wrap up another reefer and suddenly
My head is muddled utterly; “Fuckin’ freak”
My friends are muttering now; my words are tumblin’ out
All wrong, mouth closing and opening
Where is this rhyme supposed to be goin’?
What’s wrong with Rowan?

Dr. Greenthumb, why’d you stop my dreams comin’?
Numbin’ me slow, leavin’ my mind stream stumblin’
Drainin’ me dry of my deep need to be somethin’
Put my feet up and I’m a slave to weed burnin’

credits

from Lit​-​Hop, released October 6, 2006

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about

Baba Brinkman New York, New York

Science rapper and inventor of several novel hip-hop variants. Canadian transplant to New York. Pathological optimist.

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