Trapped In A Beat

I'm not a real person,
I'm a ghost, trapped in a beat.

A snare drum tapping
in a house full of people
with a rhythm that never repeats.

Pulsating in double time, banging
while a bass drum booms in three's.

Driving a force that seems to work
for me, and only me.

Gene Kruppa didn't have it,
and Buddy Rich wanted some.

You have to bare all your soul
to get where I'm going.

Sweat and tears they make the beat complete,
you beat the beat then tap ya' feet.

You live the funk and trump the thump
within a rhyme, the verse you wrote.

Then feel the cheer within your eyes,
the boo's for you, is not your blues.

Ain't no creep gonna unseat me or defeat
not even discreetly from the beat or the boogie.

I'm the ghost trapped in a beat...

Now peep me....