More songs by Gorillaz
Description
The world seems to be suspended between fog and old radio static. The rhythm is something lazy and pulsating, like the heart of a tired metropolis that still hasn't figured out whether it's asleep or living by inertia. Words scatter in the air like cigarette ash: they seem to have meaning, but you don't want to catch it - just let it swirl above your head. In every sound there is the slight grime of the streets, the dampness of basements and a special charm of a tired genius who knows too much to be loud.
And when the line about November sounds, it becomes clear that it's not about the month. It's about that time when everything has already happened, but you haven't decided yet whether to miss it. The music goes on like an old bus idling: it creaks, it sways, but it takes you somewhere further. And in this loose honesty there is a rare calmness - the kind that comes when you no longer have to pretend that everything is under control.
Lyrics and translation
Original
Slow it down some. No split, clown bum. Your old hits sound dumb.
Hold it now, crown 'em. Where you found them at? Got 'em 'round town. Coulda drowned in it.
Woulda floated, bloated, voted, sugarcoated, loaded hip shooter.
Draw for the poor, free coffee at the banks.
Yeet through the straw, none more for me, thanks. That blanks the raw, that dank sure stank lit.
Sank past the pit from all hardcore prank spit. Crank it on blast. Roll past Front Street.
Blew the whole spot like some old ass with skunk meat.
These kids is too fast, juiced off a junk tree. Who can get Musa off a crunk or a funk beat?
Stop it, it started today.
Where did it go? Why you want it to be where you know November has come?
When it's gone away.
Stop it, it started today.
Where did it go? Why you want it to be where you know November has come?
When it's gone away.
Bah, can you dig it like a spigot?
My guess is yes, you can, like, can I kick it? Wicked.
Lick a shot if you happy and you know it as you clap your hands to the thick snot of a poet flowing. Rope a pen and I'm in Hothiman.
Dope a rhyme and ball with the net, the Hope Diamond acquired off the black market.
A wiretapping couldn't target a jaw spit. The rapid fire spark lit.
Zip, a rapper bug zapper, and it don't matter after if there's a thug or dapper.
Plug your trap or it's maximum exposure.
The beast got family members asking him for closure.
Uh, send him a gun and tell him clean it.
Then go get the nun who said her son didn't mean it.
She wore a filled-in thong on Billabong and said, "Nah, for realer, -I'm feeling like a gorilla, Jon. " -Stop it, it started today.
Where did it go? Why you want it to be where you know November has come?
When it's gone away. Stop it, it started today.
Where did it go? Why you want it to be where you know November has come?
When it's gone away.
When it's gone.
When it's gone away
English translation
Slow it down some. No split, clown bum. Your old hits sound dumb.
Hold it now, crown 'em. Where you found them at? Got 'em 'round town. Coulda drowned in it.
Woulda floated, bloated, voted, sugarcoated, loaded hip shooter.
Draw for the poor, free coffee at the banks.
Yeet through the straw, none more for me, thanks. That blanks the raw, that dank sure stank lit.
Sank past the pit from all hardcore prank spit. Crank it on blast. Roll past Front Street.
Blew the whole spot like some old ass with skunk meat.
These kids is too fast, juiced off a junk tree. Who can get Musa off a crunk or a funk beat?
Stop it, it started today.
Where did it go? Why you want it to be where you know November has come?
When it's gone away.
Stop it, it started today.
Where did it go? Why you want it to be where you know November has come?
When it's gone away.
Bah, can you dig it like a spigot?
My guess is yes, you can, like, can I kick it? Wicked.
Lick a shot if you happy and you know it as you clap your hands to the thick snot of a poet flowing. Rope a pen and I'm in Hothiman.
Dope a rhyme and ball with the net, the Hope Diamond acquired off the black market.
A wiretapping couldn't target a jaw spit. The rapid fire spark lit.
Zip, a rapper bug zapper, and it don't matter after if there's a thug or dapper.
Plug your trap or it's maximum exposure.
The beast got family members asking him for closure.
Uh, send him a gun and tell him clean it.
Then go get the nun who said her son didn't mean it.
She wore a filled-in thong on Billabong and said, "Nah, for realer, -I'm feeling like a gorilla, Jon. " -Stop it, it started today.
Where did it go? Why you want it to be where you know November has come?
When it's gone away. Stop it, it started today.
Where did it go? Why you want it to be where you know November has come?
When it's gone away.
When it's gone.
When it's gone away