48 Hours

from by Rufio Jones

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This song is a murder mystery... a whodunit... can you figure out who done dunit?


Oh my
Somebody else died
Bet it was Colonel Mustard
In the study with the pipe
Whoa, I swear to God
That I didn't do it
You must have no idea
At what time
I go to work
You gotta understand
Folks are tired of the blight
So it's not safe
In this neighborhood at night
I know, right?
Even if I was a murderer
There just no way
I'd do those awful things
To hurt her, sir
How'd I know it was
A her?
Let me think
I saw it
On the news first
Then I'm pretty sure
I saw it on the net
And then I got very scared
Yeah, that's it!
See I have this thing
About researching cases
I pay attention
To the names and faces
I'm pretty good
With forensic information
By the way
There's nothing
In the basement

If he ain't do it
Who did it?
Cause one of these
Sons of bitches
Needs to go to prison
They're all lyin
So I almost got 'im
But I only got
48 hours

They call me BR
For Bottom Rung
Hell yeah I can
Tell you where them bodies was
Them sluts wouldn't shut up
So I cut em up
You ain't notice somethin stunk
Like skunk in yo trunk
How you think I got these
Cuts on my thumbs
That's what happens
When I don't get what I want
I'm tellin you cause I'm a thug
And I don't give a shit
There may even be some blood
Where the lieutenant lives
There's nothing you can do
Cause I'm immune
Not diplomatic
Just a scumbag
Placing bombs in several rooms
You don't believe me
Sounds fishy, don't it?
I'm not bright enough
To rig up some explosives
I always gotta new skill
For you to discover
That's why you don't
Judge a crook by his cover
Either hit the dirt
Or take this dust and bite it
Go head and try me
If you think I'm lyin

If he ain't do it
Who did it?
Cause one of these
Sons of bitches
Needs to go to prison
They're all lyin
So I almost got 'im
But I only got
24 hours

That was one hell
Of a dream
But some of those things
Were way realler than they seemed
Shit, I'm runnin late
Surprised the lieutenant
Didn't call to
Set me straight
I left my pants in the washer
I'ma get sanctioned
What are all these giant knives
Doing in the basement?
Well, whatever
Wait... where is my gun?
I'm all out of sorts
I must've left it
In the trunk
Calm down
Maybe no one sees me
God damn you, Bottom Rung
Figuratively speaking
Feeling like there's blood
On my hands I can't stand
But I don't understand
How there's really
Blood on my hands
Look at all these body parts
How did he do it?
No it doesn't make sense
This is just stupid
Some detective I am
Cause now I finally see
That Bottom Rung
And his accomplice
Are both me

They don't exist
I did it
If I don't hit the bricks quick
I'ma go to prison
If I hurry up
I can be gone
Within the hour
But I remember something bout
BR bein' a bomber
Let me deduce
If I did it
Then I probably would've put it
Somewhere in the kitchen
What is this
Doin' in the fridge
A timer down to 6
5... 4...


from Tears of Joy, released November 3, 2013
Lyrics by Rufio Jones
Produced by ILLingsworth
Cover photo by Jason Matthews


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Rufio Jones Detroit, Michigan

I'm a man that used to be a kid that tries to revisit those times through song.

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