DESCRIPTION:
From "33 Revolutions per Minute" (1993)
Marxman were a four-piece Marxist hip-hop group with two MCs formed in London in 1989. Their lyrics expounded socialism and an end to economic and social injustice. They are one of only a few groups that combine hip-hop with traditional Irish compositions.

LYRICS : (Thanks to PaddyRedStar819 )

M.A.N. of M.A.R.X.
Here to break necks and make socialist sex
I flex like Marc Bolan from T.Rex
And I learnt my hard lessons on giro cheques
I get vex on an MC who rejects
The redness of my rap which is complex
I got a rep for words which are headwrecks
'Cos they can't understand the context of my index
I slip into a mode which is big steps
Have to write a rhyme which is indepth
Walk the city streets which are windswept
Protect with a knife where the lifes kept

Marx the man, Marx the man

Bustin' loose with my rhyme 'cos I can't be kept
Back from the fore where I'll dissect
And intercept the propaganda that we elect
Clarify the claims of my dialect
You say you're a liberal, I say what the heck
Re distribution, you say where's my cheque
But check yourself guy, gassed is what you'll get
Reap what you sow then I'll bet you'll fret
Now to get you down is one thing I wouldn't let
But to make you wise so you can reject
A system that ain't complex it just infects
The minds of the young like a simplex

Marx the man, Marx the man

Lept into a Form 'cos it was warm
And yes I still fawn for a new dawn
Mourn the passing of a desert storm
And wonder when revolution will be born
Torn by a burden of forewarn
I step over a sucker who is pure corn
The devil has a suit he has no horns
Still some people kill on the forelawn
And never stop to think of what they spawn
And they'll never see the picture that I've drawn
In a chess game you remain a pawn
You are so far asleep when you speak it's a yawn

Marx the man, Marx the man

I never get confused 'cos my head's clear
The clothes I wear are sweet -- no they're not dear
I walk the city streets showing no fear
'Cos I'm still boxing clever get the idea
I got my pitty by my side, yes she's always near
Drink the rich Guinness stout never touch the beer
My word is red into rap 'cos I'm a pioneer
We got the words to be heard so listen up here
Always lead from the front never from the rear
Don't talk revolution from my armchair
But I stand tall for all so give a big cheer
For the crew which I'm in, who? My life peers

Marx the man, Marx the man