MICKEY FACTZ


The Arts (avant Garde) Lyrics

Mouse painting on the ceiling, drips on the floor
In a [?] building my life meant more
Had an auction out in Paris [?]
A million for the canvas, he put it in his palace
Bronx kid cut school never seen the campus
But I spoke to the masses in all of the art classes
Different pairs of glasses that I always have to try on
My converse had dye on and dried on
Put my levi's on marked with crye on rozes for John
Lennon, me and my friends cried on
I call the right songs, I call the boys
We took Polaroids with photo toys, overjoy.
Till the clones go home, they will not avoid
Kids follow my slick models, pictures of thin models
Central Park lunch was McDonalds
Big Mac's brought fifty straws and [?] bottles
Coca-Cola logos in term for Andy
Used to get 'em chalk and [?] from Sammy.
We was the small family, gave me a vice when I was ancy
Later on, used to call him granny
Inanimate objects made accurate concepts
Pops kick me out, so I abandoned the projects
Trainyard bommin' all day [?] spray
[?] to see wild styles upon broadway
Slept next to bums ink on my fingers
The [?] used to linger, a little more of paper got a
mink for my diva
I think like a dreamer, fact that we're living, I
silkscreen Mona Lisa.
The arts!

I write words, and ciphers, and night curbs
They call me mouse, the mice hurt, my life burn
A bright nerd who like girls with nice curves
Love Magic Johnson. Warhol? he like Burke.
Cover in New Yorker, article in The Times
Exhibit at the [?] drawn out of design.
Big daddy can't have fame
I left train, started flying over seas, I was bommin'
on the planes
Keith Haring will be proud on me
I took the Martin King photo drew a question on the
balcony
Paint marks on my [?] I was art-fresh boombox radio
Red alert, he was all next, oh yes
I'm from the Era where we saw Vietnam vets
[?] ain't even buy his bombs yet
And copper paintin for your liter [?] wall specs
They sit in front of elbows and [?]
I used to not have a cannerpie
But I just paid [?] for a gallery and a cannerpie
Now would you call that vanity?
Moment of clarity, glitter on top of women's anatomy
Question marks on top of their breasts, and put the
Mause on top of a tit, shit!
Nigga, I'm flying, I'm on top of my shit, no!
I'm flying, I'm on top of my shit!

From 83 to 89 I made it mine
A spray of sign in a dark alley that make you shine
[?] dark shades, I pray the God
Contemporary I'm Van Gogh, a crazy drive
Crack pipes in the streets was like flower beds
[?] showerheads for cope [?]
Homies who got felonies applaud me
Come on soon, I'm telling you my story
Mause!

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Record Label(s): 2016 Museum Mick

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