A Proposito di Gente Che La Sa Lunga…

Amen (e vediamo se avete intuito dal post a chi si è ispirato in questo caso il mio stile di scrittura, fra l’umile ed il protervo. Fra parentesi tale persona pare ritorni alla grande alla vita pubblica in questi giorni).
E poi venitemi a dire che El-P non è un supereroe…

Artist: Aesop Rock featuring El-P
Album: Bazooka Tooth
Song: We’re Famous

[El-P]
I brought that genuine shit in ‘96
Before you knew the underground or independent existed
I watched the whole scene straight jump on the dick
After stepping to KCR lit and flexing my shit
No gun talk, no gimmicks, just rounds of raw-dogging
Dirty dusty intelligent wit and word murdering
A hardcore poetic informed without burglary
Potent and shook the shit out of rappers who just learned of me
Everytime I prescribe a new pill, revolution
Quickly defined the standard for indie rap distribution
Arrogant unafraid shit developed riding a train thinking of brain fucks
“Bad Touch Example” that soon became bucks
Had everybody sprung wondering where I came from
Screaming out “Independent’s fucked up” in the same tongue
With an indelible squad of design monsters
Innovating the styles that made biters look like imposters
So we scripted an album and signed to Rawkus
Selling a hundred thousand without a radio chart hit
Imposterous son is taking the world hostage
Classic hip-hop bombage dirty with style progress
Now I’ve come from the ‘80s juvenile Brooklyn
Where cats was like: “Gimme that subway pass, kid. Good lookin.”
Now someone else is taking a ride with what’s mine
So I had to develop styles with a death device cooked in
So when I battled in basements I had eight sentences
Waiting way before the four you had laced in
And I was taught to wait patient (Why?)
Only faggots make shit up just to get famous
So when I finally blew up I remained sick
Earning respect in ghettos and ‘burbs for word placement
Back when the independent scene remained faceless
We were the only crew who promised your ass we’d take it
Mold it, shape it, living outside the matrix
Hold it, make it, more than miniature major labels
Hold it sacred, living it for the culture
Told ya plainly, protected it from the vultures
That’s why I always get respect from true soldiers
While half of the critics claim it every year: “Hip hop’s over.”
FUCK YOU, hip hop just started
It’s funny how the most nostalgic cats are the ones who were never part of it
But true veterans’ll give dap to those who started it
Then humbly move the fuck on and come with that new retarded shit
New slang, new thought, new sound
Who’s heart you thought you had?
You clown, you don’t, you drown
I won’t dumb it down, I’m dumbing now for these rounds
I’m a live mothefucker plus I’m gunning for clowns
You’re mine motherfucker, don’t be coming for pounds
So you can break out of that invisible box, you’re not down
My favorite ones are the ones who started that young rap about
Comic books, spaceships, and Obi-Quan one
And even though they were soft they had fun
But they couldn’t break out the frame of the town they came from
Some of these faggots used to send me their demos
I’m keeping their puppy styles in the Company Flow kennels
But since they had no identity from the start
They started to resent the scene when they couldn’t become a part
They’ve been failing for years and call themselves Vets, that’s bold
Motherfucker, you’re not a Vet you’re just old
I’ll slap the shit out of you to continue my nerve racket
Making this money fist over fist, fuck what you heard
Jukie cats talk about boom bap and golden ages
Patting themselves on the back for making that new outdated shit
I’ve been putting out vinyl since ‘93 and never looked back once
And ya’ll trying to chase me
You don’t innovate because you can’t innovate
It’s not a choice despite what you might tell your boys
Keep your identity crisis under the table
I always knew who I was and I’ll always be more famous