Fust is an alternative hip-hop/alternative rock project started by Jon Banks in 2005.
ATTENTION: Please check us out at: www.ReverbNation.com/Fust
Founded in early 2005, Fust is the alternative music project of Jon Banks. Fust's songs are notorious for jumping genre with music exploring rock & roll, alternative, hip-hop, house, punk, instrumental, ambient, electronica, classical, Spanish music, country, folk, freestyle rap, beat-box, trip-hop, pop-punk, electronic sampling, dance, acoustic rock, industrial, experimental, blues, classic-rock, reggae, comedic rock, spoken-word and even "commercial jingle".
For up-to-the-minute information on Fust:
[www.Facebook.com/ThisIsFust]
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[www.Twitter.com/ThisIsFust]
For Fust Video:
[www.Qik.com/ThisIsFust]
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[www.YouTube.com/FustMusic]
Lyrics
Til' I decease, I'm killin' these beats,
feelin' these streets, start jumpin', ya heart thumpin', while you still in ya seats,
and there'll never be peace, rap wars, battles at least,
test prose when the west coast rattles the east,
test shows that the best flows come outta beefs,
the best know where the rest go? Neither do we,
I don't wanna stay down to earth, I wanna smother the seas,
cover the trees, enforce what my mother believes,
fake crap, I'll save that, for another release,
infect rap like the clap or some other disease,
and these melodies shouldn't shock 'cause I've said worse,
lyrically head-first, next song to the next verse,
breach my freedom of speech, screech til' my chest hurts,
strain the right side of my brain, til' the rest works,
an excerpt, from my hip-hop bonanza,
will have ya hands up, in a single stanza,
won't give up til' ya damn family stands up,
callin' me da boss like I was Tony Danza,
Tried to swallow my pride and nearly choked/ because I toke on reality’s blunt, I’m in the smoke/ I awoke with my blood in my mouth, what’s the cure to my cancer/ million-dollar question with the hundred dollar answer/ the truth…is that there is no truth/ I gotta say that sh** is more relative than ya Aunt Ruth/ this ain’t a hobby, I gotta get paid right/ I’m rappin’ for my life, no time for stage fright/ I won’t say, I’m the greatest of my day/ but put me in time-out, n*** , I don’t play
(es, you’re waiting for a call,
while they wonder why you haven’t,
as I call that name again,
yes, it’s such a filthy habit.
No, they’re chiseling at a wall,
with an empty room behind it,
built it sixteen months ago,
but we’ve grown oh so absent-minded,
Maybe this stream of consciousness,
will drown us all, (fingers crossed),
no more wading bright, blue waters;
no tasting bits of moss.
I were to wake up blinded,
think I’d finally be at peace,
are we praying, are we choking,
either way, I’m on my knees,
Used your father’s hands,
to cover both your mother’s eyes,
no friends; just people too polite to tell you otherwise.
Just try to fill the time between,
your next epiphany,
and, yeah, I think you’ll die,
as whatever you were trying to be;
No, I know that you will leave,
a peaceful death, along the shore,
with the face that made you famous;
the look that you were going for.)
