Back to the previous page

Artist: Blue Scholars
Album:  Blue Scholars
Song:   Blue School
Typed by:

I'm a blue scholar worker studying the art of labor to create
Flavor to relate to listeners, alleviate the danger associated with strangers
Isn't it strange how we estrange ourselves from our neighbor?
Enables us through music to connect, releasing fluids in our neck
With the rhythmic forward movement of our heads and back again
Indeed as we succeed the pioneers
Maybe give back all that we've been taking through the years
I bleed, for what I believe to be the truth
Nurturing the seed planted in the fertile youth
The poetry, hanging from the branches eat the fruit
Pluck the most succulent to suck upon the juice
“So what's up with you?” frequently they ask
Been hibernating writing till the last page, ciphering the past days by
Bypassing the lies and the bullshit
Get up off the mic, and save it for the pulpit

Chorus (x4):
In the blue school, class is in session
Ask us a question, cause class is in session

I'm an exile, motherland stepchild, 
Metropolis dwelling middle America's prisoner of war
Combat the paper till the blankness is gone
Listen now, talk about the beat after the song
Astronomical, cause that is just a modest measurement
Of my ability to represent my family correct 
Because I be about it, ain't no other way to say it
Discovered my potential when I stayed late to tape it 
In the basement with an ancient karaoke stereo in lieu of a studio, 
We made due with everything lying around
And if I'm not mistaken isn't that improvisation what Hip-Hop is all about
If you popping at the lip then I will sock you in the mouth
Sonically to render you the opposite of loud
Apology accepted in advance
I think its kind of cool at one point that you thought you had a chance

Chorus (x4)

A veteran's fate written on pages of mixtapes
I'm all about a government that citizens dictate
Sick of fucking dealing with the presidents mistakes
To sit back and rant is just misplaced anger
So I cradle, pens, from now until the fable ends
Taken friends for granted, but now I've got to make amends
Calling out the big talk small walking cowards
High above the ground, yo we shaking down your towers
And demanding our money back, plus reimbursement
For parking and shit, I put my heart in this shit
And all my arteries connect to the amplifier wire
Music make the flames in my inner fire higher
I reinvent the language in the image of a dancer
Contorting where the floor becomes an answer
Blue school graduate dog, after this last verse
When the revolution comes we going to shoot your ass first

Chorus (x4)