bombs over baghdad


Hey Ya Rosa Parks There’s Bombs Over Baghdad

Lin-Manuel Miranda and The Skivvies
at 54 Below on March 15, 2014
Ham4Ham reprise on December 5, 2015

Watch on

Outkast - Bombs Over Baghdad Live on Mad TV


Rob Pruitt & Robert Pruitt Meet at Last (on the Top Ten List of My 2013 Tumblr Posts)

10. Space is the place—or is there any chance left of going back in time to fix the planet we’re on now?

9. "I have the feeling that nothing is invisible if you really look carefully enough

8. Don’t Know Much About Glitchometry?

7. Is There a Global Art Esthetic?

6. Robert Pruitt: Reinventing the African American Portrait

5. Rob Pruitt’s Smiley Faces Will Make You Cry 

4. Bringing Some Color to the Guggenheim

3. Nuanced Art Selfie Through a Carlos Cruz-Diez

2. Yayoi Kusama Makes Art Selfie Heaven

1. Great Future in Plastics (in Long Beach, NY)

The stroke of midnight: Watsky’s new album, X Infinty, is officially out.

Trust me, this bonus track alone is worth the price. It’s a nearly 10 minute long track about a robot apocalypse & saving themselves and the liquor. It is the This Is The End of rap songs: you’ll be crying about how fucked up this apocalypse is as you hold your sides sobbing with laughter. I went to summarize it, but really, I’ll just let their lyrics speak for themselves…cause this shit is genius.

Adam, ha
I didn’t mean to scare ya
Dude, that’s not a robot
It’s just Iggy Azalea
Must’ve hid up in the bar
To learn about who we are
Then report back to the captain
Of the folks attackin’ my favorite rap stars
Oh shit
Hit her with some fuckin’ duct tape
She came to sing-rap
And give us all some undercut fades
Lo-fi beats transmittin’ telegraphic autotune
Help, she’s inside my head
And I don’t think I am immune
Been repo-d
And I think I’m in deep
I am weepin’ at the seams
Forfeitin’ my dreams  
Of keepin’ the streets G-code
Only way to outrun it
Is doublin’ up on the track
Any and everyone get up and meddle
I mean just puttin’ a pedal into it
Now we taking over the tempo and tunin’ it
Never gon’ let a lesser lemon ruin it
So I’m inducin’ it
Doomin’ em all, I’m undoin’ it, deuces I’m dippin’
Who comin with the kid? I’m out
Headed to dojo
Diggs got pistols hidden in his fro though
These robots think we’re bitch, Diggs, gimme some loko
And let me borrow your Jefferson robe, bro, I’m goin postal
Bay boys ‘bout to put this barrel into some fuckin blowholes

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, cash
You see I’m trimmin’ my mustache up
I heard all these newly brainwashed rap chicks are really down to fuck (oh no!)
I comb the pistols out the fro and they sittin’ on the table
And there’s two cheesesteaks out in a fully gassed up LeSabre
I’m ready to ride on these haters, let’s go
But you better drive cause you already know
That apocalypse or not, when I’m behind the wheel
My black ass is sure enough gonna get stopped
And we ain’t got the time and the tags are expired
You know how it is, I am really not tryin’ to die today
By cop or by a geek robot
Whoa, stop
Lemme go bottle up this kombucha I’ve been brewing on the back porch
Grab the backpack out the closet, it’s got all of our passports
I’ve been plannin’ this for a minute, seen the writing on the walls
If we survive and find a civilization, they’ve got to know who we are
First, we swoop up Chinaka
In case we need some muscle
Or some reason, or anything other than our indiscriminate hustle
Then we roll through the hood real slow bumpin’ something all of these monsters know
Like a Watsky song? Lo and behold, they’ll follow our car wherever we go
Let’s lead em out to Napa and let em gentrify that bitch up
Start the car, homie—no, we are not stoppin’ for any swishers
Or a McFlurry, blood; there’s no time for that shit
Hold up, there go Nak right there, pull over.
Ayo Nak!
Ayo Nak, get in the car!

Ay Rafa, get backseat
Make room for ya
 fam, friend
I’ll give you this McShake and the end of
 my Hansen
Now what the fuck y’all talkin’ it’s the
 of the world
I been on Pinterest tendin’ to the
End of
 my curls
I mean the sky is always purple
People runnin’ on vapors
I mean the Tribune been gone
I ain’t gon’ read it in the papers
Nothing’s all that different, been the same for black women
When apocalyptic breakfast follow revelation dinners
The lights been out
The water smellin’ of flint
Exquisite corpses layin’ where the bodies had been
No bombs over Baghdad, just drones with grenades
So when life give us citrus, we learn to drop Lemonade
So, okay fellas, shall we get in formation?
Bump some pied piper R up out the trunk this scraper
Do the end of the world stylin’ in our fitteds and gators
Lure these stupid mufuckas on a goose chase
Use whatever’s already in our suitcase
I got this old-world jones for this open road
And my flow so cold, we don’t need AC
I popped fo’ No Doze, I’ll read this formal prose
Bet you Butler knows how to make us free
A Lauren Olamina in Trumped up world
A black magic woman still bein’ called girl
But the only constant is change, Holmes
So let’s get the supplies and then dip up out our Bay homes
Got the earthquake kit and six gallons of gas
I got Diggs in the driver and Raf in the back
Got this passenger seat
 and the last of these sweets
Go north, Daveed, just gun it til wine country
Do it movin’ fluid, like turfin with iDummy
It’s the Bay moves we learned as natives gon’ keep us safe
It’s that forty water-water and an instrumental tape, let’s go
They’ll get tired behind us
I mean half of ‘em hybrid but n*gga, most of ‘em wind-ups
We got nothin’ but power, we got nothin’ but time
I got Kwudi’s new beats and Music of My Mind
But nothin’ left in Napa but the scent of the grapes
No palate-cleansing tapas for discriminate taste
Nothing left in Calistoga but one popped bubble
We got just two dudes and like, one Nak, trouble
Like how the hell we suppose’t repopulate humanity
The two of y’all and me, that’s like, actual insanity
Like ew
That’s really gross, guys
It’s like
Not Diggs
And not Rafa
Not nobody else
Just Getback
Just doin’ it stylin’ in wine country with
Nothin’ else