Late For My Own Funeral

Song: Late For My Own Funeral

Album: Toussaint Morrison Is Not My Homeboy

Artist: Toussaint Morrison

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 3, 2011

ref: http://toussaintmorrison.bandcamp.com/track/late-for-my-own-funeral

Ya see that thing up there, it’s called the sky

And I’m gonna give it to you someday, but only when it’s right

You see my time here isn’t long, matter fact I’m already gone.

They buried me yesterday with my backpack and a song

Well first things first, tell Carol she was my earth

I enjoyed the long talks over Szechuan after church,

The long prayers through it all, the long stares at the wall

Makin’ waits to hear your fate from doctors at the hospitals.

And we made it- well at least you did, so tell Jane

She’s the ink for those “World’s Greatest Mom” t-shirt templates

We fought like deadlines, set-backs, age and time

And worked out like deadliner, set-backs, and age and time

Rock on Janer, you last minute lane changer

Combattin’ cancer on the daily all love and no anger.

Tell your daughter, Annie, to take it easy on herself

She’s come farther than her father could ever help.

Yea, I dig that guy, but he’s a sketchy profile,

And I’ll be damned if I’m not the one to walk you down the aisle

I have a few words for Ricky, but we’ll save that for the end

So for now sister, know your brother loves you after death

And I’m still lookin’ for Chase, Jerren Schaden and Doc

Maria Croix, Barb Jones, and Joe Sodd

It’s crazy up here, I’ve been in line since I landed

Fillin’ out paper work to make sure I am who I say I am, but

-

Chorus

What I miss most is your voice

My memory’s still the same even though my life has change

Cos’ what gets me by are the simple joys.

I was late for my own funeral so I could spend the day as a ghost on your shoulder.

-

Anyways, over here the roads are pristine

I only wish I could’ve brought my Honda with me.

That things gonna out live your kid’s kids

So don’t forget, every 60,000 give the transmission fluid the business.

Drive it back to New Orleans, have a hand grenade for me

And kill the hangover with PJ’s in the mornin’

I wanna hear you laughter in the hereafter

Unconditional, no matter where luck steers the dagger

Smile, it may not feel like a lot,

But trust in the end, it’s the only thing you’ve got

I don’t mind that you don’t care, I don’t mind

And I’ll be late for yours too, so I guess it’s only fair

It’s clear you pick the moments you choose to be a father

And I’m guilty of lettin’ my mood determine what I call ya

Derek, Mr. Morrison, Dad whatever it is today

I’m your son, and even in the next that won’t change

But what I miss most is your voice

My memory’s still the same even though my life has changed

What gets me by are the simple joys

I was late for my own funeral so I could spend the day as a ghost on your shoulder…

-

You don’t need to be my father right now,

But as the final hours wind down

Let’s take this walk and put the pride down

And own the moment while we can

You don’t need to be my father right now,

But as the final hours wind down

Let’s take this walk and put the pride down

And own the moment while we can

You gave me my name

You gave me my name

For everything you took

You gave me my name

I take it to the grave

Walk Thru The Wall

Song: Walk Thru The Wall

Album: Toussaint Morrison Is Not My Homeboy

Artist: Toussaint Morrison

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 3, 2011

ref: http://toussaintmorrison.bandcamp.com/track/walk-thru-the-wall

Chorus

Doctor-Doom-Sonic-Boom Hot

Cannon for a hand, Dragon Punchin’ through the rooftop

(Chill) Original Captain Africa

Getting’ friend requested by presidents

As I walk thru (the wall)...

-

Teamed up like tea cups

And hot water off’a the top of the oven gettin’ steamed up

I know you got a lot’a pride to swallow

But no need to chase it with hatorade out a mean mug

We rock Monday thru Monday

Treatin’ everyday like a Sunday- Willie Beamon

They wanna holla- holla- holla at ya

‘til they catch ya, run game, silly Lehmans

Caught up in a brand new vine

Watchin’ ‘cos they outta time

Thinkin’ we always had it all good

But we started in the slums like Final Fight

Homie, we been here

We ain’t left, to be clear.

These Super Mega

Powers are united for the year

-

Chorus

Doctor-Doom-Sonic-Boom Hot

Cannon for a hand, Dragon Punchin’ through the rooftop

(Chill) Original Captain Africa

Getting’ friend requested by X-Men

As I walk thru (the wall)...

-

Super-Trill, one-hit kill

The main ingredient’s droppin’ in

Good cop gone band and gone back

Jea- Donnie Yen

Round-housin’ around it

But I’m’a put’em through the window if he keep on glancin’

Chop down the house with the edge of my hand

Now, we got an understandin’

Y-Y-Yakuza bruising

K-K-K-Kazuya movin’

Through the losers confusin’ the truth as a rumor

And turnin’ the rhymes into ruin

M-M-M-Maneuver scooters

Glidin’, slidin’ by the riot

Smilin’, ridin’ the moment, spinnin’ the spokes

New Jack, Auto Pirate

Yeah, we hold it down

Like paperweights and gravity

We gettin’ crowned

Like sugar teeth and cavities

You talkin’ bullshit, homie.

Hannity.

My mama’s name is Jane

And I’m the calamity

-

Chorus

Doctor-Doom-Sonic-Boom Hot

Cannon for a hand, Dragon Punchin’ through the rooftop

(Chill) Original Captain Africa

Getting’ friend requested by exes

As I walk thru (the wall)...

Sega Genesis

Song: Sega Genesis

Album: Toussaint Morrison Is Not My Homeboy

Artist: Toussaint Morrison

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 3, 2011

ref: http://toussaintmorrison.bandcamp.com/track/sega-genesis

A+ and I’m skippin’ the lecture

I wrote a new textbook for the critics to measure

We’re about to take a field trip kids

I’m’a show you how to rob a bank full’a meal tickets

‘Cos standouts don’t get the handouts

Less fans than foes wanna take my band down

I can’t have that, I fired the professor

Financed the record hotwirin’ Vespas

A good lookin’ thief, best believe it

‘Round here wheels don’t turn unless ya steal’em

It’s the best in show, brand new, and appealin’

Brought the house music down along with the ceilin’

Good press, bad press hate alike

Whatever ya do, just make sure you get my name right

You’re A&R couldn’t see me in plain sight

Spelled it out and still couldn’t get my name right

T-O-U-S-S-A-I-N-T

M-O-R-R-I-S-O-N

The emcee that ain’t so emcee

One fifth The Blend to represent

The front man of this punk rock band

I don’t drop grands.

Homie, I drop rent

Collections been callin’ me

So I’m collectin’- gimme all the beats.

It’s the too deep thinkin’, blitzin’ pre-drinkin’

Fashionably always late a free-speakin’

Heart-stopper, dream-killer, the ship-sinker

Crewed up with flame-throwers and hip-swingers

I’m givin’ it as much as I can take it,

And smilin’ as hard as you can fake it

Swingin’ first before aimin’

And I’m takin’ off without the spaceship

Can’t float if ya can’t lift the anchor

Ditch the ball and chain and ya just might make it

Can’t sing it if ya ain’ gone bring it

Posin’ like a pendulum, but ya ain’t swingin’

I pull it off without the pliers

I’m comin’ for the title with the eye of a liger

Ya got alotta gusto comin’ back here

So drink it slow, homie that’s your last beer

I’ll settle this one how I see it

Your goon pound’s thru- goin’ down like GM

The style flexes AM to PM

9 to 5 slaves lookin’ at me like freedom

Yeah, it’s just another day above pavement

For the piece of the puzzle that wouldn’t fit where it’s vacant

The name stays but the face differs

Yesterday was yesterday, ma. I’m a shape shifter

Identity thief for good reason

You’re a fan of the mask, but ya hate what’s beneath it

First-Class Academy of the Chameleons

I dig you too, but your style ain’t worth stealin’

Most’a y’all done lost the cause

Now I’m aimin’ at you and your bosses boss

Who done it? Colonel Mustard

From the clock tower with the sniper rifle, cousin.

Back for the first time ‘cos I never left

I was kickin’ it with Jay-Z and Brett Favre

You can quit the game, but the game don’t rest

And I put that on a MarioKart Star and headstart

Chill. Your name never got brought up

You’re just the antacid. I’m the whole enchilada.

The dream continues, ya can’t stop it

I’m walkin’ with the ghost of Malcolm X and Steve Rogers

Ma, while ya can- enjoy it

And what ya tone. I ain’t ya boyfriend.

Got my name out ya mouth like a rough drink

Sweatin’ me like wedding-day groom cufflinks

Now, while I’m waitin’ for the caffeine to wear off

I got a few moral dilemmas to take care of

Evil and easy, I got’em paired up

And poppin’ like Oxycontin and snare drums

Return Of The Street Fighter

Song: Return Of The Street Fighter

Album: Toussaint Morrison Is Not My Homeboy

Artist: Toussaint Morrison

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 3, 2011

ref: http://toussaintmorrison.bandcamp.com/track/return-of-the-street-fighter-feat-muggsy-vogues

Sundown and the streetlights are up,

There won’t be a 3^rd round for this Street Fighter’s Cup.

Heart rate bumpin like ya butterflied a 50,

Posin’ like a cattle call audition for Guy Ritchie

Miss me me more ways than 16.

It ain’t a race, homie but it just switched leads.

Got careless and got embarrassed, that’s what he gets

For tryin’ to put the magic back in a cheap trick

Ya cheap trick. Now keep ya head bobbin’

With ya whole corner screamin’ out “sweep the leg Johnny!”

With faith no more than a coin filp

Layin’ down the law with six buttons and a joy stick.

You, yo cousin, yo cousin’s cousin

Bring ya whole crew and don’t forget the coroner

Roundhouse followed by a right blow

Understand the style still remains Saikyo

Goin’ down in flames,

Goin’ down again.

China & Japan, Cowboys at high noon,

Yup, the beef runs deeper than Ken & Ryu.

If I see you online or at the arcade again

You will know my name is the lord

Mother F Dre, Mother F Snoop

Mother F Deathrow, ayo and here comes my left blow

Rockin’ that Hurricane

Kick and I make it rain

Waitin’ for a first move, kid keep waitin’

I make these cats wish they had the patience.

Hip tossed with a lil bit’a sumo

Player 2 meet numero uno

CHORUS

Get it, Get it, Go
Get it, Get it, Go

Watch me Pass By

Do not disrupt the flow

Or else the hands fly

Get it, Get it, Go

Watch me Pass By

Do not disrupt the flow

Or else the hands fly

Hey, don’t tempt me, you don’t wanna see it

I’ll leave this town lookin’ like the good-side’a Cleveland

No need to wonder where the holy thunder’s gone

When I break’em off with the Sh-Sh-Sh-Shaolin Wonder Palm

Where I’m at is where I’ve been and it’s where I’m comin’ from

Tekken 9 to 5 where chests get the jumpin’ on

Brought your gun, and I’m smilin’

Before you reach it, fat women’ll be singin’ Miley Cyrus

What you’re sellin’ or supplyin’, I ain’t buyin’

Punch, fake sweep, kick, punch, and I’m jivin’

Homie, the next mistake is gonna cost your face

Got you in your own hometown lookin’ lost in space

Projectiles the style, I make’em jump

You already know the name, it’s player one.

CHORUS

Watch me Pass By

Do not disrupt the flow

Or else the hands fly

Get it, Get it, Go

Watch me Pass By

Do not disrupt the flow

Or else the hands fly

(Muggsy Vogues Verse)

Get it, Get it, Go

Watch me Pass By

Do not disrupt the flow

Or else the hands fly

Get it, Get it, Go

Watch me Pass By

Do not disrupt the flow

Or else the hands fly

This Is Sparta (Wisconsin)

Song: This Is Sparta (Wisconsin)

Album: Toussaint Morrison Is Not My Homeboy

Artist: Toussaint Morrison

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 3, 2011

ref: http://toussaintmorrison.bandcamp.com/track/this-is-sparta-wisconsin

Find me now or find another,

It’s a weekend of doubt and there’s no time for lovers

Some fight for the right to party, some fight for supper

However you wanna cut the butter

This blade jumper just turned blind runner

And I don’t fear the wall or any oncomers

They’re already on the wrong side of a

Diamond Dallas Paige Flyin’ Diamond Cutter

The spell’s already out the shell

Crashin’ with the wrath of a thousand Dells

The wrath of a hundred drunks at Wisconsin Dells

Na, I ain’t on the bill, but I’m still rockin’ bells

Off the shelf and dirty boxin’

The outfit’s so loud, I heard’em walkin’

Fashionistas, well dressed monsters-

Roamin’ charity balls, but ain’t got shit to offer

Mouth closed, but it’s still noisy

Somehow they can’t let a b-boy be

Enjoy the beat and get down on the flo’

They’re in the balcony lookin’ down on the flo’

Good God. Holy Moses.

You got a problem? Strike it up with the hostess

Maestro put it in motion

Only quantity these folks roll with is over dosage

Outside the door is as close as

You’re gonna get to these social cobras

Strike first was the old slogan

This is about who strike’s the lowest

-

Chorus

Off the wall. Haywire.

Maybe we should stay awhile.

Grab a chair and break it over

Somebody’s big smile

I don’t know what you been told, but

We act the same sober-

Swallow pride, spit fire,

Throw a punch before we like to

Make out, make out

Make out- yeah

Make out, make out

Make out- uh

Make out, make out

Make out- yeah

Make out, make out

Make out

-

Fight broke out at the gala,

Swung from a chandalier, just missed the landin’

Leg dropped thru a table top on the Ms’

The lady had it comin’, she was talkin’ expletives

Since the main entrée on plate got served

Talkin’ that ish got me heated like a hot perm

Usually got a handle on the temper,

But when it comes to cold queens colder than December

Can’t tell who’s the next to kick or next to kiss

In a flurry of fists of fury and estrogen

Bad company, good business

Fight stretched from the dance floor to the kitchen

Block- Blockin’- uppercut cocked and

Let go, lips closed, still no problem

Blouses bouncin’, heels round-housin’

Dancin’ on, off, in and around

Phony bra’ steppin’ to me like Obi Wan

Little did he know I throw bows like Tony Jaa

Yea, I let the neck brace hold ya jaw

No sleeves, but I still roll’em up

-

Chorus

Off the wall. Haywire.

Maybe we should stay awhile.

Grab a chair and break it over

Somebody’s pretty smile

I don’t know what you been told, but

We act the same sober-

Swallow pride, spit fire,

Throw a punch before we like to

Make out…

-

The writings on the wall

Can’t you see

Life is just a brawl

Aim and swing

Don’t fake your best shot

Don’t fake your best shot

Don’t fake your best shot

Don’t fake your best shot

Don’t fake your best shot

Don’t fake your best shot

Don’t fake your best shot

Don’t fake your best shot

Don’t fake your best shot

-

Chorus

Off the wall. Haywire.

Maybe we should stay awhile.

Grab a chair and break it over

Somebody’s fake smile

I don’t know what you been told, but

We act the same sober-

Swallow pride, spit fire,

Throw a punch before we like to

Make out…

Civil War

Song: Civil War

Album: Toussaint Morrison Is Not My Homeboy

Artist: Toussaint Morrison

Written by Toussaint Morrison

Released May 3, 2011

ref: http://toussaintmorrison.bandcamp.com/track/civil-war

Take it however you wanna take it

Shape shift, mixtape or a secret invasion

Young Avengers done screwed the whole piece

Over a lack’a dignity and reality TV

I keep the peace, but don’t doubt it,

Threaten my people and I’ll have to snatch the life out’ya

I left the glory and I ain’t goin’ back

Not for you, them or anybody’s registration act

It’s run my patience flat, I’ve face the facts

Facin’ worse after Cap had to take the wrap.

I’m a brand new Puma shoe in to the who’s who of mutants

Same uniform, new kicks.

Between wise fools, and the foolish

This ain’t about who’s losin’, it’s about who’s human

Tellin’ me to prove it, when the proof isn’t proven

Just don’t make me do this.

-

CHORUS

Walkin’ through these streets of warfare

(And it all coulda been so simple)

You can only hope it’s goin’ somewhere

(Since life turned into a comic book, we’ve had a few issues)

-

I don’t know where it goes or where it comes from

But you can follow it by the trail of lazer guns

Civil war, homie, and I’ll be blazin’em

But not before I get my daily dose of Eat, Pray, Love.

Laugh if ya wanna, disbelieve the truth,

Just understand super-villains got feelings too.

Blinded by the hype, and you’ll never see it thru,

Claimin’ that you cold, you can barely keep it cool

Hot heads goin’ off like rockets

The style’s so gorgeous, they tellin’ me to drop dead

And it still not, will not, can’t stop, won’t stop

Elbow drop, blowin’ up like botox.

I’m bored and that’s why ya’ll throwin’ darts

Cos ya janky and workin’ for Tony Stark

Don’t got it by now, then ya slow from the start

You tryin’ to fix the fuse, while we glow in the dark

-

CHORUS

Walkin’ through these streets of warfare

(And it all coulda been so simple)

You can only hope it’s goin’ somewhere

(Since life turned into a comic book, we’ve had a few issues)

-

They wanna play God and brand their name on the crown,

They wanna be the king and hurl lighting from the clouds

I use to want it to, just like you

And watch the whole world turn into the Brooklyn Zoo

But hard times don’t call for part times

Fightin’ crime with a  few longshots and far cries

I had to spearhead a few problems that ain’t mine

Hell know these streets weren’t laid on straight lines

Everyday the plot and mood gets

Milkshake thick with a brand new twist

My mom wants me to telephone booth it

As I make gravity look like an illusion

But I am what I am, no uniforms.

I’m Luke Cage, these cats is luke warm.

Nobody ever put this up to me,

But I won’t pretend the end of this is gonna come in peace.

CHORUS

Walkin’ through these streets of warfare

(And it all coulda been so simple)

You can only hope it’s goin’ somewhere

(Since life turned into a comic book, we’ve had a few issues)

Walkin’ through these streets of warfare

(And it all coulda been so simple)

You can only hope it’s goin’ somewhere

(Since life turned into a comic book, we’ve had a few issues)