Michael Franti And Spearhead - Runfayalife lyrics

Every woman every man wanna move dem feet every woman every man love a Spearhead beat! Police in the city is shuttin all the clubs down it's lookin like a ghost town ya know Mary- what we gotta do? Hell Yeah! we gotta go underground" To da place -from which we all came from house parties-they was always fun remember tryin to rig a sound system everybody- would bring a donation when we needed- to get a turn table my man Zulu would borrow one from aunt Mable set it up in the corner- turn the lights down until the mornin' (chorus) But the party ain't started till the speaker's blown NO! NO! NO! Run fa ya life! The party ain't started 'till the speaker's blown While he was settin up camp someone else would bring a home stereo amp with a note from they mama- "don't turn it up loud or it's a goner" sorry mama- there's no chance cause if the shit ain't bumpin' people ain't gonna dance "know what I'm sayin'" ("Turn that shit up") everybody in the place would bring a few speakers string em all togetha like they was sneakers and say a prayer- before we turn it on hopin that the amp- wouldn't get blown. I asked Mary watcha think of it "now we need a D.J. to work this shit" so everybody- would bring a few singles- get the beat bumpin and then start to mingle (chorus) Every woman every man wanna move dem feet every woman every man love a Spearhead beat! Every brother and every sister would pay respect up to the ancestors we would dance and we would celebrate even though we live in a police state then the pigs- would try to make a statement with a ticket- for noise abatement but we kept it pumpin' -till the braekadawn then we told the cops they gotta break the door down and today -across the nation- don't ya know it's the same situation alotta cities lookin like a ghost town but the house party will never be shut down no no no! (chorus) Every woman every man wanna move dem feet every woman every man love a Spearhead beat! (repeat) This one's dedicated to all the DJ's, rappers, Promoters, producers who continue to throw jams in the face of adversity. Peace Peace to the informal nation. Word Up!