Categories
Hip Hop Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): Luniz – I Got 5 On It

Day 19. For the penultimate day I’m choosing this great tune from the mid ’90’s. I remember everyone was singing this when it was new & you couldn’t turn a radio on without hearing it. Top Of The Pops, The Chart Show etc. Might have been watching MTV back then, but I’m not sure. I reckon I was woken for school by it playing on my radio alarm clock at least a few times.

This is part of the reason I’ve been doing this BLM themed Song of the Day Series. The amount of enjoyment I’ve received from African American culture & memories it’s helped me make is ridiculous. I’m in the UK &, due to shielding, all I can do is write about the things that are happening & expressing my solidarity from home. I hope that by sharing these great songs, I’m sending potential fans to these artists.

I’m also enjoying just listening to all this music as I’m deciding what to include.

Player, give me some brew an I might just chill
But I’m the type that like to light another joint
Like Cypress Hill
I steal doobies, spit loogies when I puff on it
I got some bucks on it, but it ain’t enough on it
Go get the S-T. I-D-E-S 
Never the less, I’m hella fresh
Rollin’ joints like a cigarette
So pass it cross the table like ping pong
I’m gone, beatin’ my chest like King Kong
It’s on, wrap my lips around a 40
And when it comes to get another stogie
Fools all kick in like Shinobi
No, he ain’t my homie to begin with
It’s too many heads to be proper to let my friend hit it
Unless you pull out the fat, crispy
Five dollar bill on the real before it’s history
‘Cause fools be having them vacuum lungs
An’ if you let ’em hit it for free you hella dum-da-dum-dumb
I come to school with the Taylor on my earlobe
Avoiding all the thick teasers, skeezers, and weirdos
That be blowing off the land like where the bomb at
Give me two bucks, you take a puff and pass my bomb back
Suck up the dank like a Slurpee
The serious bomb will make a niggy go delirious like Eddie Murphy
I got more Growing Pains than Maggie
‘Caus, e homie, snag me to take the dank out of the baggie

I got five on it
Grab your 40, let’s get keyed
I got five on it
Messin’ wit that Indo’ weed
I got five on it
It’s got me stuck and knocked on back
I got five on it
Partna, let’s go half on a sack

I take sacks to the face
Whenever I can
Don’t need no crutch
I’m so keyed up
‘Til the joint be burnin’ my hand
Next time I roll it in a hampa
To burn slow so the ashes won’t be burnin’ up my hand, bra
Hoochies can hit but they know they got to pitch in,
Then I roll a joint that’s longer than your extension
‘Cause I’ll be damned if you get high off me for free
Hell no, you betta’ bring your own spliff, chief
What’s up? Don’t babysit that
Better pass the joint
Stop hittin’ ’cause you know ya got Asthma
Crack a 40 open, homie, an guzzle it
‘Cause I know the weed in my system is gettin’ lonely
I gotta take a whiz test to my P-O
I know I failed ’cause I done smoked major weed bro
And every time we with Chris that fool rollin’ up a fattie
But the Tanqueray straight had me

I got five on it
Grab your 40, let’s get keyed
I got five on it
Messin’ wit that Indo’ weed
I got five on it
It’s got me stuck and knocked on back
I got five on it
Partna, let’s go half on a sack

Hey, make this right man, stop at the light man
My yester-night thing got me hung off the night train
You fade, I face, so let’s head to the east
Hit the stroll to 9-0 so we can roll big hashish
I wish I could fade the eighth, but I’m low budget
Still rolling a two door Cutlass same old bucket
Foggy windows, soggy Indoe
I’m in the ‘land getting smoked wit my kinfolkI been smoked, Yuk’ll spray ya, lay ya down up in the O-A-K the Town
Homies don’t play around we down to blaze a pound
Then ease up, speed up through the E-S-O
Drink the V-S-O-P up with a lemon squeeze up
And everybody’s rolled up, I’m da roller
That’s quick to fold a blunt out of a buncha sticky doja
Hold up, suck up my weed is all you do
Kick in feed, ’cause where I be’s, we need half like a foo-foo

I got five on it
Grab your 40, let’s get keyed
I got five on it
Messin’ wit that Indo’ weed
I got five on it
It’s got me stuck and knocked on back
I got five on it
Partna, let’s go half on a sack

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Hip Hop Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): Earl Sweatshirt – Hive (feat. Vince Staples & Casey Veggies)

Day 18. Something a bit more contemporary for you today. I first heard this excellent tune way back in 2013 when it appeared on the Giles Peterson hosted WorldwideFM radio station in Grand Theft Auto V.

Slow & menacing, Hive is dark, disturbing stuff &, I was happy to find out, it was produced with the music software Reason. This is the software I learned on &, even though I don’t use it anymore, it will always hold a special place in my heart.

[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
Promise Heron I’ll put my fist up after I get my dick sucked
Quick buck, maybe a gold chain
With that fucking flow that s-s-so belittles men
They tentatively tend to turn and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas, nigga listen
The description doesn’t fit, if not a synonym of menace
Then forget it, in turn these critics and interns
Admitting the shit spit, it just burn like six furnaces
Written to fix learning them digits and simultaneously
Dispelling “one-trick-pony” myths, isn’t he?
One adolescent, fucking six nigga energy
And crawling down ‘Fax like a rich nigga centipede
Crack ceramic and slap a hand out of cash account
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, these niggas done let the Kraken out
Crack-a-lackin, like snap, crackle, poppin’ your ammo off
Hide your face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga

[Hook: Casey Veggies (Earl Sweatshirt)]
’87 roof top rising
Whipping hoopties, tryna boost raw chronic
Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock vomit up, sub rocking
Thud knocking niggas teeth loose
Bruh, I don’t fuck with no cops (Rolling with that flow swamp)
Catch me over stove top (Rapping to that coke rock)
(Passionless in old Jive clothing with them doors wide open)
(Dim the floor lights focused) Like it’s nothing, cause it’s nothing, bitch

[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
From that city that’s recession-hit
With stress, niggas could flex metal with peddle to rake pennies in
Desolate testaments trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde and Brenda just stay pregnant
Breaking news: death’s less important when the Lakers lose
It’s lead in that baby food, heads try to make it through
Fish-netted legs for them eyes that she cater to
Ride dirty as the fucking sky that you praying to
So here I sit, eye in the pyramid
God spit it like it’s truth serum in that beer and then
(Poof) Disappear again, reappear bearded on
Top of a lear steering it into the kids’ ear again
Provider of the backdrop music
For the crack rock user and the mascot Earl
Rawer than the skinned knee cap on the black top
Salivary glands lighter fluid for the matchbox
Striking, wait, wait, who the fuck you badder than?
Boy oh boy, I’m bad as burnt pollo off the grill and shit
Spitter of the little Nick, nimble, rickrolling
Bitch niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Vince Staples]
Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain’t about shit
Come around, we gun ’em down, bodies piled, Auschwitz
Bulletproof outfits, weapons concealed
I’m ready to kill, so test it, all my weapons is real
Selling thizz, couldn’t tell him what the recipe is
Got ’em wishing that they never gave these weapons to kids, cheers
Send chills up spines of fat bitches after
Shows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how they
Live and I live for money, other words, I’m getting money
Little boy told me when it’s time to ride, they’ll send them for me
Ain’t nobody scaring me, niggas ain’t prepared for heat
Tools hit like pool sticks, the way I cue shit
If this was ’88, I would have signed to Ruthless
’94 would have had them walking down Death Row
First is when the best go, hate is what the rest do
Voice inside my head told me wet ’em if they test you
So it’s raging water season
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your momma seedless
Everybody hard until it’s only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in they songs be trapping hard as Jeezy, I don’t believe it
But to each his own, I ain’t tripping long as I can reach the chrome
Heat your home like Southern California Gas, police pass
Tell ’em free Smalls, off Palm with the heat drawn
Strapped up long as the chief for police armed
Raised where the beasts are, north of the Beach
A couple streets past Baby Jay, bony niggas spraying Ks
Ruger with the pork face, Jewish for the court case
Here to save you niggas from the sorbet, Coldchain

[Outro:]
Like it’s nothing cause it’s nothing, bitch

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Categories
Hip Hop Politics Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): Public Enemy – State Of The Union (STFU) (feat. DJ Premier)

Day 17 & I’m breaking the rule of not featuring the same artist twice. Ordinarily, I would find this unthinkable, but on Friday 19th June Public Enemy & DJ Premier dropped this surprise new single.

State Of The Union (STFU) is an incendiary anti-Trump, anti-Police anthem. Furious & articulate, Chuck D holds nothing back. Now Trump has ditched any pretences of not being a fascist, Chuck D draws valid & clear comparisons between Trump & the Nazis. Trump’s supporters are compared to the Gestapo. It’s laid out, in no uncertain terms, that America cannot survive another term with Trump in charge. It’s time to “vote this joke out/or die tryin'”

Also of interest is the fact that Chuck D & Flavor Flav seem to have made up after their public falling out earlier in the year. I guess they couldn’t agree on the Bernie Sanders issue but their hatred & contempt for Trump unites them.

Whatever it takes
Rid this dictator
POTUS my tail
Ass debater
Prime-time
Primo
Rhyme-time crime
Like no other
In this lifetime
White house killer
Dead in lifelines
Vote this joke out
Or die tryin’
Unprecedented
Demented
Many president’d
Nazi gestapo dictator
Defended
It’s not what you think
It’s what you follow
Run for them jewels
Drink from that bottle
Another four years gonna gut y’all hollow
Gutted out, dried up, broke and can’t borrow

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

Mister, I am the law
And you are not
In fact, I’m god
I got a lot
Mister these united breaks
Take over, come over
Orange hair
Fear the comb-over
Here’s another scare
Keep them hands in the air
Better not breathe
You dare not dare
Don’t say anything
Don’t think nothing
Make America great again
The middle just love it
When he wanna talk
Walk y’all straight
To them ovens
Human beings of color
Yeah we be sufferin’

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

Better rock that vote
Or vote for hell
Real generals now
Not some USFL
Not a fuckin’ game
I dare not mention his name
Operation 45
Same thing
Sounds like Berlin burnin’
Same thing
History’s a mystery
If y’all ain’t learning
End this clown show
For real
A state bozo
Nazi cult 45 Gestapo

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

State of the Union
Shut the fuck up
Sorry ass motherfucker
Stay away from me

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Blues Folk Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): Lead Belly – Midnight Special

Day 16. Blues influenced Folk singer Huddie William Ledbetter, aka Lead Belly, is one of the most important musicians in American Folk music. Perhaps best known in contemporary times for Nirvana’s cover of his Wheer Did You Sleep Last Night?, Lead Belly wrote or adapted a great deal of songs which have become Blues & Folk standards today. Midnight Special, Goodnight Irene, Pick A Bale Of Cotton & many more.

Well, you wake up in the mornin’, you hear the work bell ring
And they march you to the table, you see the same old thing
Ain’t no food upon the table, and no pork up in the pan
But you better not complain, boy, you get in trouble with the man

Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a ever lovin’ light on me

Yonder come miss Rosie, how in the world did you know?
By the way she wears her apron, and the clothes she wore
Umbrella on her shoulder, piece of paper in her hand
She come to see the governor, she want to free her man

Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a ever lovin’ light on me

If you’re ever in Houston, well, you better do the right
You better not gamble, there, you better not fight, at all
Or the sheriff will grab ya and the boys will bring you down
The next thing you know, boy, oh, you’re prison bound

Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a ever lovin’ light on me

Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a light on me
Let the Midnight Special shine a ever lovin’ light on me

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Hip Hop Music Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): Nas – One Love (feat. Q-Tip)

Day 15. We’re on the homestretch. Soon I’m going to have to decide on the theme for the next Song of the Day series. One Love is taken rap wunderkind Nas’ debut album, Illmatic, produced by some of the greatest Hip Hop producers in New York (including Q-Tip).

This is essential Hip Hop. Intelligent, storytelling lyricism over crisp, clear beats.

[Verse One]
What’s up kid? I know shit is rough doing your bid
When the cops came you should’ve slid to my crib
Fuck it black, no time for looking back it’s done
Plus congratulations you know you got a son
I heard he looks like you, why don’t your lady write you?
Told her she should visit, that’s when she got hyper
Flippin, talk about he acts too rough
He didn’t listen he be riffin’ while I’m telling him stuff
I was like yeah, shorty don’t care, she a snake too
Fucking with the niggas from that fake crew that hate you
But yo, guess who got shot in the dome-piece?
Jerome’s niece, on her way home from Jones Beach – it’s bugged
Plus little Rob is selling drugs on the dime
Hangin out with young thugs that all carry 9’s
At night time there’s more trife than ever
What’s up with Cormega, did you see ’em, are y’all together?
If so then hold the fort down, represent to the fullest
Say what’s up to Herb, Ice and Bullet
I left a half a hundred in your commissary
You was my nigga when push came to shove
One what? one love

[Verse Two]
Dear Born, you’ll be out soon, stay strong
Out in New York the same shit is going on
The crack-heads stalking, loud-mouths is talking
Hold, check out the story yesterday when I was walking
The nigga you shot last year tried to appear like he hurtin’ something
Word to mother, I heard him fronting
And he be pumping on your block
Your man gave him your glock
And now they run together, what up son, whatever
Since I’m on the streets I’m gonna put it to a cease
But I heard you blew a nigga with a ox for the phone piece
Whylin on the Island, but now with Elmira
Better chill cause them niggas will put that ass on fire
Last time you wrote you said they tried you in the showers
But maintain when you come home the corner’s ours
On the reals, all these crab niggas know the deal
When we start the revolution all they probably do is squeal
But chill, see you on the next V-I
I gave your mom dukes loot for kicks, plus sent you flicks
Your brother’s buck whylin’ in four maine he wrote me
He might beat his case, ’til he come home I play it low key
So stay civilised, time flies
Though incarcerated your mind (dies)
I hate it when your moms cries
It kinda wants to make me murder, for real-a
I’ve even got a mask and gloves to bust slugs for one love

[Verse Three]
Sometimes I sit back with a Buddha sack
Mind’s in another world thinking how can we exist through the facts
Written in school text books, bibles, et cetera
Fuck a school lecture, the lies get me vexed-er
So I be ghost from my projects
I take my pen and pad for the weekend
Hitting L’s while I’m sleeping
A two day stay, you may say I needed time alone
To relax my dome, no phone, left the 9 at home
You see the streets have me stressed somethin terrible
Fucking with the corners have a nigga up in Belleville
Or h.d.m., hit with numbers from 8 to 10
A future in a maximum state pen is grim
So I comes back home, nobody’s helping shorty doo-wop
Rollin two Phillies together in the Bridge we called ’em oowops
He said, “Nas, niggas could be bustin’ off the roof
So I wear a bullet proof and pack a black tres-deuce”
He inhaled so deep, shut his eyes like he was sleep
Started coughing, one eye peeked to watch me speak
I sat back like the mack, my army suit was black
We was chillin’ on these benches where he pumped his loose cracks
I took an l when he passed it, this little bastard
Keeps me blasted he starts talking mad shit
I had to school him, told him don’t let niggas fool him
‘cos when the pistol blows the one that’s murdered will be the cool one
Tough luck when niggas are struck, families fucked up
Could’ve caught your man, but didn’t look when you bucked up
Mistakes happen, so take heed never bust up
At the crowd catch him solo, make the right man bleed
Shorty’s laugh was cold blooded as he spoke so foul
Only twelve trying to tell me that he liked my style
Then I rose, wiping the blunts ash from my clothes
Then froze only to blow the herb smoke through my nose
And told my little man that I’m a go cyprose
Left some jewels in his skull that he can sell if he chose
Words of wisdom from Nas try to rise up above
Keep an eye out for Jake shorty wop
One love

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Blues Rock Rock And Roll Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): The Jimi Hendrix Experience – Purple Haze

Day 14. There’s a fair argument to be made that Jimi Hendrix was probably the most influential musician of the mid-20th century. His incendiary brand of guitar playing & the gritty, aggressive sonic textures he was able to wring from his instrument were pioneering & went on to inspire pretty much all modern Rock music. Many will dismiss this and say that the Kinks (or any number of other musicians) used distortion on their guitars, but that wholly fails to understand what it was about Hendrix’s sound that was so unique. It wasn’t just distorted, it was sustained & loose. It felt like Hendrix was guiding it rather than playing it. It sounded effortless & made generations of Rock fans a) want to play guitar & b) be massively underwhelmed by their own lack of ability.

Purple Haze is a funk inflected Blues Rock stomper. Waves of harmonic distortion crash against “blues & Eastern modalities” (Wikipedia). The psychedelic connotations which many fans & critics ascribed to the lyrics were brushed aside by Hendrix, who described Purple Haze as a “love song”.

Check out this live version from his set at the Atlanta Pop Festival, 1970. The same set where he played his famous rendition of the US national anthem, The Star Spangled Banner. To quote someone from the comments (with the respectable username Spongeboob 69): “His playing is so effortless he probably finds walking harder”.

Purple haze, all in my brain
Lately things they don’t seem the same
Actin’ funny, but I don’t know why
Excuse me while I kiss the sky

Purple haze, all around
Don’t know if I’m comin’ up or down
Am I happy or in misery?
What ever it is, that girl put a spell on me

Help me
Help me
Oh, no, no

Ooh, ah
Ooh, ah
Ooh, ah
Ooh, ah, yeah!

Purple haze all in my eyes
Don’t know if it’s day or night
You got me blowin’, blowin’ my mind
Is it tomorrow, or just the end of time?

Ooh
Help me
Ahh, yeah, yeah, purple haze
Oh, no, oh
Oh, help me
Tell me, tell me, purple haze
I can’t go on like this
(Purple haze) you’re makin’ me blow my mind
Purple haze, n-no, no
(Purple haze)

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Rock And Roll Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): Chuck Berry – You Never Can Tell

Day 13. Here we’ll listen to Rock and Roll pioneer Chuck Berry, with his gloriously upbeat dance number, You Never Can Tell. It’s a super energetic record, but for this post I have chosen a slightly more sedate, downtempo version. His guitar playing really shines at this tempo & would you just take a look at that shirt.

You Never Can tell is an evergreen, kitchen sink drama about a young, married couple just starting their lives together. And why is Chuck writing about these guys? Because they love Rock And Roll, of course.

It was a teenage wedding
And the old folks wished them well
You could see that Pierre did
Truly love the mademoiselle
And now the young monsieur and madame
Have rung the chapel bell

“C’est la vie”, say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell

They furnished off an apartment
With a two room Roebuck sale
The coolerator was crammed with 
Tv dinners and ginger ale
But when Pierre found work
The little money comin’ worked out well

“C’est la vie”, say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell

They had a hi-fi phono
Boy, did they let it blast
Seven hundred little records
All rock, rhythm and jazz
But when the sun went down
The rapid tempo of the music fell

“C’est la vie”, say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell

They bought a souped-up jitney
‘Twas a cherry red ’53
They drove it down to Orleans
To celebrate the anniversary
It was there that Pierre
Was married to the lovely mademoiselle

“C’est la vie”, say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell

On the extremely unlikely off-chance that you don’t know who Chuck Berry is, I’m still fairly sure you’ll have heard this song as it used in the extremely famous dance scene in Pulp Fiction, starring Uma Thurman & John Travolta.

Looking for some great music to listen to? Why not check out the Song of the Day (BLM) Spotify playlist?

[shortcode https://open.spotify.com/playlist/49s70jbxBv4z18zrIFiqAJ?si=A7iGmGRwTf-xJKs4_YzKCw%5D

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Funk Indie Rock Shoegaze Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): The Veldt – Until You’re Forever

Day 12. I’m a big fan of subverting expectations & stereotypes so I’m pleased to present to you, The Veldt. The Veldt are a black Shoegaze band from the initial wave of that genre. Singer Daniel Chavis recalls how his band were viewed as “difficult to work with” as a result of them not playing “typical black music.”

The Veldt play a unique blend of soulful Shoegaze. Walls of sound akin to My Bloody Valentine shroud moody soul vocals & a funk inspired rhythm section. Until You’re Forever, in my opinion, seems to have echoes of the “Madchester” sound to it. Possibly as a result of combining Indie Pop melodicism with upbeat dance-like rhythms & synthesiser textures.

Initially released in 1994, this version is from 2019 & is just as vital & energetic as the album version.

My apologies but, for the first time, I was unable to find the lyrics to this tune to reproduce here.

Looking for some great music? Why not check out the Song of the Day (BLM) Spotify playlist.

Categories
Hip Hop Music Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five – The Message

Day 11. Old School. Oldest School. Released in 1982, The Message was the first successful Hip-Hop tune to address social issues rather “self-congratulatory boasting or party chants of earlier hip hop” (The Message, Wikipedia). Lyrically, The Message addresses issues of inner city poverty, drug addiction & homelessness.

Lead rapper, Melle Mell told an NPR interviewer “we didn’t actually want to do ‘The Message’ because we was used to doing party raps and boasting how good we are and all that.” Thankfully, they did decide to make The Message & other rappers, taking notice, decided to write about their own lives, hardships & politics.

It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin’ under

Broken glass everywhere
People pissin’ on the stairs, you know they just don’t care
I can’t take the smell, can’t take the noise
Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice
Rats in the front room, roaches in the back
Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat
I tried to get away but I couldn’t get far
Cause a man with a tow truck repossessed my car

Don’t push me cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin’ under

Standin’ on the front stoop hangin’ out the window
Watchin’ all the cars go by, roarin’ as the breezes blow
Crazy lady, livin’ in a bag
Eatin’ outta garbage pails, used to be a fag hag
Said she’ll dance the tango, skip the light fandango
A Zircon princess seemed to lost her senses
Down at the peep show watchin’ all the creeps
So she can tell her stories to the girls back home
She went to the city and got so so seditty
She had to get a pimp, she couldn’t make it on her own

It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin’ under

My brother’s doin’ bad, stole my mother’s TV
Says she watches too much, it’s just not healthy
All My Children in the daytime, Dallas at night
Can’t even see the game or the Sugar Ray fight
The bill collectors, they ring my phone
And scare my wife when I’m not home
Got a bum education, double-digit inflation
Can’t take the train to the job, there’s a strike at the station
Neon King Kong standin’ on my back
Can’t stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac
A mid-range migraine, cancered membrane
Sometimes I think I’m goin’ insane
I swear I might hijack a plane!

It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin’ under

My son said, Daddy, I don’t wanna go to school
Cause the teacher’s a jerk, he must think I’m a fool
And all the kids smoke reefer, I think it’d be cheaper
If I just got a job, learned to be a street sweeper
Or dance to the beat, shuffle my feet
Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps
Cause it’s all about money, ain’t a damn thing funny
You got to have a con in this land of milk and honey
They pushed that girl in front of the train
Took her to the doctor, sewed her arm on again
Stabbed that man right in his heart
Gave him a transplant for a brand new start
I can’t walk through the park cause it’s crazy after dark
Keep my hand on my gun cause they got me on the run
I feel like a outlaw, broke my last glass jaw
Hear them say “You want some more?”
Livin’ on a see-saw

It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin’ under

A child is born with no state of mind
Blind to the ways of mankind
God is smilin’ on you but he’s frownin’ too
Because only God knows what you’ll go through
You’ll grow in the ghetto livin’ second-rate
And your eyes will sing a song called deep hate
The places you play and where you stay
Looks like one great big alleyway
You’ll admire all the number-book takers
Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers
Drivin’ big cars, spendin’ twenties and tens
And you’ll wanna grow up to be just like them, huh
Smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers
Pickpocket peddlers, even panhandlers
You say I’m cool, huh, I’m no fool
But then you wind up droppin’ outta high school
Now you’re unemployed, all non-void
Walkin’ round like you’re Pretty Boy Floyd
Turned stick-up kid, but look what you done did
Got sent up for a eight-year bid
Now your manhood is took and you’re a Maytag
Spend the next two years as a undercover fag
Bein’ used and abused to serve like hell
Til one day, you was found hung dead in the cell
It was plain to see that your life was lost
You was cold and your body swung back and forth
But now your eyes sing the sad, sad song
Of how you lived so fast and died so young so

It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin’ under

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Categories
Hip Hop Music Song of the Day

Song of the Day (BLM): Blackstar – Definition (feat. Common)

Day 10. Blackstar is Mos Def & Talib Kweili. Respiration, with guest raper Common, Blackstar adress the issues of violence within the Hip Hop community.

Known for intelligent, thoughtful lyrics, Blackstar are often credited as one of the first handful of Alternative Hip Hop acts. They were initially active at the very end of the ’90’s, when Hip Hop production was gearing more & more towards slick, Pop radio friendly productions. Alternative Hip Hop gained popularity with the underground fans. It’s raw, old school inspired productions reached out to old Hip Hop fans who were disenfranchised by the glossy, corporate aesthetic of the mainstream.

“What’d you do last night?”
“We did umm, two whole cars
It was me, these, and Main Three right?
And on the first car in small letters it said
“All you see is” and then you know
Big, big, you know some block silver letters
That said “crime in the city’ right?”
“It just took up the whole car?”
“Yeah yeah, it was a whole car and shit…

“Escuchela, la ciudad respirando
[Listen to it, the city breathing]

Escuchela

The new moon rode high in the crown of the metropolis
Shining, like who on top of this?
People was hustling, arguing and bustling
Gangsters of Gotham hardcore hustling
I’m wrestling with words and ideas
My ears is picky, seeking what will transmit
The scribes can apply to transcript, yo
This ain’t no time where the usual is suitable
Tonight alive, let’s describe the inscrutable
The indisputable, we New York the narcotic
Strength in metal and fiber optics
Where mercenaries is paid to trade hot stock tips
For profits, thirsty criminals take pockets
Hard knuckles on the second hands of working class watches
Skyscrapers is colossus, the cost of living
Is preposterous, stay alive, you play or die, no options
No Batman and Robin, can’t tell between
The cops and the robbers, they both partners, they all heartless
With no conscience, back streets stay darkened
Where unbeliever hearts stay hardened
My eagle talons stay sharpened, like city lights stay throbbing
You either make a way or stay sobbing, the Shiny Apple
Is bruised but sweet and if you choose to eat
You could lose your teeth, many crews retreat
Nightly news repeat, who got shot down and locked down
Spotlight to savages, NASDAQ averages
My narrative, rose to explain this existence
Amidst the harbor lights which remain in the distance

So much on my mind that it can’t recline
Blasting holes in the night til she bled sunshine
Breathe in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine
Breathe out, weed smoke retrace the skyline
Heard the bass ride out like an ancient mating call
I can’t take it y’all, I can feel the city breathing
Chest heaving, against the flesh of the evening
Sigh before we die like the last train leaving

Breathing in deep city breaths, sitting on shitty steps
We stoop to new lows, hell froze the night the city slept
The beast crept through concrete jungles
Communicating with one another
And ghetto birds where waters fall
From the hydrants to the gutters
The beast walk the beats, but the beats we be making
You on the wrong side of the track, looking visibly shaken
Taken them plungers, plunging to death that’s painted by the numbers
With crime unapplied pressure, cats is playing God
But having children by a lesser baby mother but fuck it
We played against each other like puppets, swearing you got pull
When the only pull you got is the wool over your eyes
Getting knowledge in jail like a blessing in disguise
Look in the skies for God, what you see besides the smog
Is broken dreams flying away on the wings of the obscene
Thoughts that people put in the air
Places where you could get murdered over a glare
But everything is fair
It’s a paradox we call reality
So keeping it real will make you casualty of abnormal normality
Killers Born Naturally like, Micky and Mallory
Not knowing the ways’ll get you capped like an NBA salary
Some cats be emceeing to illustrate what we be seeing
Hard to be a spiritual being when shit is shakin what you believe in
For trees to grow in Brooklyn, seeds need to be planted
I’m asking if y’all feel me AND THE CROWD LEFT ME STRANDED
My blood pressure boiled and rose, cause New York niggaz
Actin spoiled at shows, to the winners the spoils go
I take the L, transfer to the 2, head to the gates
New York life type trife the Roman Empire state

So much on my mind I just can’t recline
Blasting holes in the night til she bled sunshine
Breathe in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine
Breathe out, weed smoke retrace the skyline
Yo don’t the bass ride out like an ancient mating call
I can’t take it y’all, I can feel the city breathin
Chest heaving, against the flesh of the evening
Sigh before we die like the last train leaving

Escuchela, respirando ?

Yo, on The Amen, Corner I stood looking at my former hood
Felt the spirit in the wind, knew my friend was gone for good
Threw dirt on the casket, the hurt, I couldn’t mask it
Mixing down emotions, struggle I hadn’t mastered
I choreograph seven steps to heaven
And hell, waiting to exhale and make the bread leavened
Veteran of a cold war It’s Chica-I-go for
What I know or, what’s known
So some days I take the bus home, just to touch home
From the crib I spend months gone
Sat by the window with a clutched dome listening to shorties cuss long
Young girls with weak minds, but they butt strong
Tried to call, or at least beep the Lord, but didn’t have a touch-tone
It’s a dog-eat-dog world, you gotta mush on
Some of this land I must own
Outta the city, they want us gone
Tearing down the ‘jects creating plush homes
My circumstance is between Cabrini and Love Jones
Surrounded by hate, yet I love home
Ask my God how he thought traveling the world sound
Found it hard to imagine he hadn’t been past downtown
It’s deep, I heard the city breathe in its sleep
Of reality I touch, but for me it’s hard to keep
Deep, I heard my man breathe in his sleep
Of reality I touch, but for me it’s hard to keep

So much on my mind I just can’t recline
Blasting holes in the night til she bled sunshine
Breathe in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine
Breathe out, weed smoke retrace the skyline
Yo how the bass ride out like an ancient mating call
I can’t take it y’all, I can feel the city breathing
Chest heaving, against the flesh of the evening
Kiss the Ide’s goodbye, I’m on the last train leaving

Looking for some great music? Why not checkout the Song of the Day (BLM) Spotify playlist?

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