Buy "No E" on Bandcamp: http://bit.ly/1lOhV9P
Tweet it out: http://ctt.ec/q7Tf4
Lyrics by Zach Sherwin (@zachsherwin)
and George Watsky (@gwatsky)
Beat by Max Miller-Loren
Director: Jackson Adams
Director of Photography: Alan Gwizdowski
Titles and graphics: Jon Berkas
Producer: Bradford Simpson
Editor: Jenni Daniel
Audio recording, mixing and mastering: Nils Montan
Special thanks: Ian Brownell, Myq Kaplan, and Sara Faith Alterman.
Shot entirely on location in Noe Valley, San Francisco, CA.
Max on that track...
Think through your ABCs
So you'll start off at A and wind up at Z
Now which of that group occurs most commonly?
A hint: it's A B C D blank F G
Now that writing symbol. It pops up a lot, right?
High profiling, always all up in a spotlight
Cool kid, in crowd
Not who this hot shit is droppin' for
This is for my not-so-populars
CHORUS. It's for my Xs, my Zs and my Qs,
My Ñs, my Js, and my Vs and Ks, too
This is for my outcasts and misfits.
All my oddballs, nod your noggins to this
It's going out to my Qs and my Ks and my Zs
My Ñs, my Xs, my Js and my Vs
Go Watsky. Okay, I'm going to
Using only Y A I O and U
WATSKY. So many things I can't say without you
But back up, trick, this song's not about you
I swing my fist until a bully catch a fat lip
You'll think it's a conniption fit from sniffin' catnip
As I run rings around a dingus I do cunnilingus
On a gymnast till that foxy lady hits a backflip. (Wooo!)
I'm sorry if I'm on that brag tip
But your armada's nada and I'm chillin' on that flagship
Baby, two can play at war
I'm cruisin' on my unicorn and shootin' as I soar
It's stupid how I'm poopin' on you nincompoops
And scoopin' up my loot and scootin' out that door
So if a bastard calls you gross and got you glum
You host a holy ghost - not hollow as a drum
All in all our flaws show what it's all about
So f ho-hum go dumb and just roar till your throat's numb
ZACH. So, um, I was that chubby kid at camp who would swim
With his shirt on, so no light could tan his skin
Wishing his waistband was trim, and thanks to my pituitary gland
I'm now a man and slim, but that pain stays with you - phantom limb
Chantin' hymns for all my antonyms of big-man-on-campus gym rats
And pompous girls with pompoms
For non-Don Juanitas and non-Don Juans who skip prom or formal
For abnormal sorts who don't play sports with jocks
So if how you do you is too unorthodox for a box
Put a fist up. Box your way out. Hit it
Mold's gross. Who would want to fit it?
CHORUS. This is going out to my Zs and my Ks my Qs
My Ñs, my Xs, my Vs and Js, too
Folks with asthma and physical handicaps
Birthmarks, scars, and burns or dramatic family crap
Going out to my Qs and my Ks and my Zs
My @-signs, my Js, and my Vs
And last on this list,
All my library-living wordplay-loving kids
Zach, smack it to bits
Gandalf, Houdini, Jafar....oh no!
What's wrong? Look!
Gotcha, guys, that was our plan all along
Wizardry on a song with a magical trick
What a hot collaboration
Boom, this match is (e)lit(e)
Gritty hard diamond minds causing paws to applaud
Two shiny rock stars, two hip-hop g(e)od(e)s!
Whoa whoa, slow it down, don't talk bull and brag
I'm sorry, man, I'm just chock full of s(e)wag(e)
Lyrics, twisting, turning, curling
Similar to a tail on a pig or a pug
From a pair of (e)mc(ee)s with a lot in common
Our skin and our skills
Don't allow rigid limitations
To stop you from rising to difficult occasions
Wow, so motivational!
Oh, without a doubt
And now it's "P(e)ac(e) man"
And I'm out. Ghost.