Artist: MA Doom (Masta Ace + MF Doom)
Album:  MA_DOOM: Son of Yvonne
Song:   Nineteen Seventy Something
Typed by: jostmatt at bluewin dot ch

I was raised to the sound of the seventies
Earth, Wind & Fire soundin so heavenly
Ohio Players and Curtis Mayfield
Aretha Franklin's picture on the playbill
Al Green in a tight suit, all white
Mini Ripperton, high notes all night
Moms even had a box full of 45s
Put the needle down, yeah that sounds sorta live
Sound like the kinda groove I can rap over
Got drunk off the beat, then I was back sober
Bring that part back, yeah I'ma murder that
Donnie Hat' on a track with Roberta Flack

Pile of records in a bag
Sneak 'em out 'fore she notice that they're gone
Gotta think, I don't know
Should I rap off my mom's favorite song?

Better hope I don't scratch it or that's it
I'ma get my ass kicked, that's a classic
Can't explain that I was just borrowin it
Moms on a rampage lookin for her Parliament
And Donnie Hathaway, feelin like a castaway
Hidin in grandmom's room more than half the day
If I tell her that her Parliament at Brian crib
And nobody home now, I'ma be a cryin kid
But it's seemin like I'm safe for the time bein
My uncle gettin all the blame far as I'm seein
I just gotta lay low like a snake belly
It's a sticky situation like grape jelly
I'm on the Titanic, or some other boat
Got my mother and her brother at each other's throat

(- Marvin
- What?
- Why you botherin my records?
- I ain't touched your records
- I know you was in my records
- I ain't do nothin with your records
 * arguing continues* )

You better hope mommy never find out
Cause if she does, then that's yo ass
You know damn well if you touch one
And you get caught, that'll be your mass

(And the year is)
(Nineteen seventy somethin)  --> The Notorious BIG
(Nineteen)
(And the year is)
(Nineteen seventy somethin)
(Nineteen seventy somethin)

The final act
Brian's at the door with a black and red knapsack, came to bring the vinyl back
I put it back before anybody notices
He said, 'Close call,' I said, 'Yeah, I know this is'
But I got away with it like the perfect crime
And made a fresh tape, man, it was worth the time
And aggravation and stress almost made a mess
She to find out it was me, she woulda laid to rest
But I'm over like a fat rat
That was smart, it's a good thing you hid 'em in that backpack
It feels so good to get that out the way
Now I'm out the door, back out to play
I'm about to say these are the Good Times like Chic
And then I hear my mom shriek

(- Duval, back get in here
- Oh-oh
- How did my record get scratched?
  I know you did it
  Go get my belt
- Come on, ma
- That's it, get my belt, now
- Come on, ma)