your life like nuclear fission So gimme the life If the punani tight it make you feel alright But back to the mission You couldn't hit if Jazze Pha,
to the shaman and his cardboard drum and the riffraff Dancing in the sun I sing for you For all the talent he has jehovah don't play jazz like the devil
goody girl I'm changing and how MILLIE: I'm changing and how! ALL: So beat the drums 'cause here comes thoroughly Hot off the press! One step ahead! Jazz
He sings the buddah blues Oh, he sings the buddah blues My name Joe, my name Joe There is a king in Thailand And he plays the jazz drum He has a fine
Perry Farrell: vocals Peter DiStefano: guitars Martyn Le Noble: bass Stephen Perkins: drums, percussion Sound additives: Skatemaster Tate and Matt Hyde
Track #16 2:51 Sonny Boy Williamson (John Lee) (Brown) John Lee Williamson - vocal and harmonica with Joshua Altheimer - piano, Fred Williams - drums
) Records #54080 Album: Stevie Wonder Early Classics Spectrum CD 544211-2 Band: Joe Swift bass, Larry Moses Part 1: (bongo drum background) 'Yeah' '
(Motown) Records #54080 Album: Stevie Wonder Early Classics Spectrum CD 544211-2 Transcriber: Awcantor@aol.com Part 1: (bongo drum background) '
Fresh Prince Ay, Jeff, do me a favor, give em just a lil' touch of the bass Not a lot, just a lil' touch, Jeff Word, word Ay, Jeff do me a favor man, jazz
mind is useless, instinct takes control Jam to techno, groove to soul to soul You been arrested, now you're being tested The beat is a sex fiend, you're being molested Stead drum
can anybody remembr one thing I tell them? you're gona be stuck with your baby. ok, here we go!" (j) - "what we're gonna do, play jazz with
like a nigga that boost Polo Steppin' through the corridor of metaphors Lookin' over My left shoulder the mic Still feel colder than before With this jazz
a nigga that boost Polo Steppin through the corridor, of metaphors Lookin over my left Shoulder the mic, still feel colder than before With this jazz
Jazz drum rhythms A
low for me It's Cash Money young money never know money It's 500 Degreez it's not fool But it and the dro got me so scummy And to drum hole a whole hundred
a son of a preacher man. He had a hard time dealing with all the fact, bought himself a needle end railroadtracks, gonna do my thing, gonna start me a jazz
Fulton Mall A fighter, that's what you made, now I fight for fun I fight for acme lab rat experiment son Pulsate like a Theremin rigged to big drums
can't get that, nowhere but this Ya know what I'm sayin, this is classic shit C'mon (Whoaaaaaa) [Verse 1 - B. Stille] Groove to the bassline, slap that snare drum