Jason Mraz Curbside Prophet (Live) Lyrics
Last updated: 08/19/2009 11:00:00 AM
Sponsored LinksIs anybody here for the first time this evening?
Really, not too many folks
Well that's okay, 'cause it's better if we all know each other
It's a little bit easier for us to take off our clothes
Which we have planned for a little later on in the set.
Not quite yet, not quite yet.
Some of you might know me already by this one.
I'm just a curbside prophet with my hand in my pocket,
And I'm waitin' for my rocket to come
I'm just a curbside prophet with my hand in my pocket
And I'm waitin' for my rocket, said I'm waitin' for my rocket to come
To come out to someone like me, yeah
To come, to come out, to come to someone like me, yeah.
You see it started way back in the NYC
When I stole the first rhyme from the M-I-C
At a west end avenue, at 63
The beginning of a leap year, February '96
When a guitar, picked it up in the mix
I committed to the licks a-like a nickel bag of tricks
With a cigarette half-lit, my momma wouldn't have it
Barely 18, suckin' on the brown acid
I said, well look at me now, look at me now, look at me now now now now
Now I hate to be the one that mentions any of distraction
But many's of my monies it was added by subtraction
You had to be the 20, that's a 1/8 fraction
It landed me a honey, but I got no action
I tried to keep it funny, but delayed reaction
Had me jammin' on the munchies, said damn, you like tax son
Take up your slack, or try it on your back
But don't miss class or your ass won't pass
The Jackson 5 is a favorite of mine at the time, don't blame it on the sunshine
The east-west village is the best when the jazz is live, don't blame it on the moonlight
I played on the subway lines, number 1 to 9, don't blame it on the good times
And Strawberry Fields had already yielded the sign, that Michael Jackson owns Beatles rights
Lights out, move out of the Big Apple city
Time out, no doubt, you know the drop was pretty obscene
Revert to plan B, back home with family
Mechanicsville is misery, except for old aunt Andy's barbecue
That you can chew, the Mrs. of the fear knows the Brunswick stew
Well how, what do you do without your back in your room
And what are all the people gonna think of you?
Well I knew what I was gonna be at home to do
For the next three years, I'm waitin' for my cue
I've been workin' on the songs for the whole world to sing
And I've been jerkin' you would love to take a ride with me
By brushin' up my scat and those fat jazz chords
Break dance pad on the hardwood floorboard
Slappin' them hands on the childhood headboard
Romance, oh lord, I'm 20 years forlorn
Born as a Cancer child, but who could wail
Man deliverin' the goods because my daddy was a mailman
Mommy was a banker, her only drink was Sanka
Her sister was a tanker, so maybe we should thank her
For stealin' the scene, that helped me get it started
I think that all the genes that she absorbed was all retarded
And maybe she's arrested either once or maybe twice
But I guess that's best, because it kinda broke the ice
For us all clockin' all those janitorial nights
I paid the price to rock nice, for a life behind the mic
MCs around me, my best friends found me
I never liked to be just another out of town G
Respectfully, see I been down on my knee
I spell C-A-L-L A-T-T please please
With the ATT I save a lot
'Cause Who's The Boss is a show I crave a lot
But you gotta take a break from the old school
You gotta set a date with the real you
And you gotta stay away from all that new school too
'Cause there's a lot that you can say about the just plain truth
All consequences, they never will fool me
I'm mixin' up the sentences in case you wanna duel me.
I got one ready for your ass, if you excuse me
I'm Jason Mraz, and I just plain blame it on the boogey.
I plain blame it on the boogey.
At this time in the evening, I would like to introduce to you the sixth member of the Jackson Five.
Mr. Toca Rivera gonna keep it alive.
You never to never to guess where I been been been
And I have no regrets that I bet my whole checking account
Because it all amounts to nothing up in the end
Well you can only count that "on the road again" will soon be on my radio dial
And I'll be payin' close attention to the Willie Nelson style
Like a band of gypsies on the highway wild, and I'm a one man wishin' on the California skyline
Drive up the coast, MC Brag 'n Boast
I'm pickin' up the pace and makin' time like Space Ghost
Raisin' a toast to the highway patrol at the most, I got my cruise control on coast
From Farmville to Memphis, Graceland with bass fans
Little Rock, and Oklahoma City to the heart land of Texas
Don't mess with the Lone Star, man
My defenses can't rest, I can't handle the pan
So it's off to the land of enchantment, and canned heat
Albuquerque, Roswell, Santa Fe to step in.
Send a postcard, just the way that I planned it
Say I'm on Spring Break, because they won't understand
That I'll never be back to the town of my mother
Not messin' around with the sound that Virginia is for lovers
Lover lover what what, lover number one
Just made the cut, leave it on the Greyhound bus
Or maybe leavin' now, on a jet plane
I never know just when I'm gonna be back again
San Diego is where I plan to stay
Until I move to L.A.
Thanks to Mike C. for submitting Curbside Prophet (Live) Lyrics.
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