Fat Cats, Bigga Fish

[Intro] Well, what do we have here?

[Chorus] Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down

[Verse 1: Boots Riley] It's almost 10 o'clock, see, I gotta ball of lint for property So I slip my beanie on sloppily And promenade out to take up a collection I got game like I read the directions I'm wishing that I had an automobile As I feel the cold wind rush past But let me state that I'm a hustler for real So you know I got the stolen bus pass Just as the bus pulls up and I step to the rear This old lady look like she drank a 40 of fear I see my old-school partner, said his brother got popped Pay my respects, "can you ring the bell? We came to my stop" The street light reflects off the piss on the ground Which reflects off the hamburger sign as it turns round Which reflects off the chrome of the BMW Which reflects off the fact that I'm broke Now what the fuck is new? I need loot, I spot the motherfucka in the tweed suit And I'm in his ass quicker than a kick from a greased boot Eased up slow and discreet Could tell he was suspicious by the way he slid his feet Didn't want to fuck up the come-up So I smiled with my eyes said "hey, how's it hanging guy?" Bumped into his shoulder, but he passed with no reaction Damn this motherfucka had hella Andrew Jacksons! I'm a thief, or pickpocket - give a fuck what you call it Used to call 'em "fat cats," I just call them wallets Getting Federal: ain't just a klepto Mastercard or Visa? I gladly accept those Sneaky motherfucka with a scam, know how to pull it Got a mirror in my pocket, but that won't stop no bullets Story just begun, but you already know Ain't no need to get down, shit, I'm already low

[Chorus] Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down

[Verse 2] My footsteps echo in the darkness My teeth clenched tight like a fist in the cold sharp mist I look down and I hear my stomach growling Step to Burger King to attack it like a Shaolin I never pay for shit that I can get by doing dirt Linger to the girl cashier and start to flirt All up in her face and her breath was like murder Damn, the shit I do for a free hamburger! Well you got my number, you gon' call me tonight? It depends: is them burgers attached to a price? I'm just kidding, I'ma call, even write you love letters Thanks for the burgers, um, hook me up with a Dr Pepper That's cool, you want some ice? Yeah, and some fries would be hella nice Damn my manager's coming, play it off, okay? 'Have a nice day!' I'm up outta here anyway

I use peoples before they use me Cause you could get got by an Uzi over an OZ That's what an OG told me Gots to find someplace warm and cozy to eat the Victuals that I just got Came to a underground parking lot "This place is good as any, fuck it, it's all good" Walked in, found a car, hopped and sat up on the hood Ate my burger, threw back my cola Somebody said "hey," it was a rent-a-pig, I thought it was a roller "Want me to call the cops?" I don't want them to see me Looked down and saw that I was sitting on a Lamborghini It was Rollses, Ferraris, and Jags by the dozen A building door opened; damn, it was my cousin Getting off of work, dressed up, no lie Tux, cummerbund, and a black bow tie I was like "hey!" "Who is it?" "Me" "Oh, what's up man, I just quit this company They hella racist and the pay was too low" I said "right, what was up in there though?" "A party with rich motherfuckas, I don't know the situation I know they got cabbage, owning corporations IBM, Chrysler and shit is what they said" Just then a light bulb went off in my head "They be thinking all black folks is resembling Give me your tux and I'll do some pocket-swindling" Finna change in the bathroom and not freeze off my nuts Lets take a short break while I get into this tux

[Pre-Chorus] Alright, I'm ready

[Chorus] Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down Get down, get down, get down

[Verse 3] Fresh, dressed like a million bucks I be the flyest motherfucka in an afro and a tux My arm is at a right angle, up, silver tray in my hand "May I interest you in some caviar, ma'am?" My eyes shoot around the room there and here Noticing the diamonds in the chandelier Background Barry Manilow, Copacabana And a strong-ass scent of stogies from Havana Wasn't no place where a brother might've been Snobby old ladies drinking champagne with rich white men Alright then: let's begin this Nights like this is good for business Five minutes in the mix, noticed several different cliques Talking, giggling and shit With, one motherfucka in betwixt And everybody else jocking him, throttling Found out later he owns Coca Cola bottling Talking to a black man, who's he? Confused me, looking hella bougie Ass all tight and seditty Recognized him as the mayor of my city Who treats young black men like Frank Nitti Mr Coke said to Mr Mayor: "You know, we got a process like Ice Ts hair We put up the funds for your election campaign And, oh, um, waiter can you bring the champagne? Our real estate firm says opportunity's arousing To make some condos out of low-income housing Immediately, we need some media heat To say that gangs run the street and then we bring in the police fleet! Harass and beat everybody till they look inebriated When we buy the land, motherfuckas will appreciate it Don't worry about the Urban League or Jesse Jackson My man that owns Marlboro donated a fat sum" That's when I stepped back some to contemplate what few know Sat down, wrestled with my thoughts like a sumo Ain't no one player that could beat this lunacy Ain't no hustler on the street could do a whole community This is how deep shit can get It reads "macaroni" on my birth certificate "Puddin'-Tane" is my middle name, but I can't hang I'm getting hustled, only knowing half the game

[Outro] Shit, how the fuck I get up out this place?

Il volume
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Taiyo Yamanouchi
Manuale pratico per la scrittura rap
Taccuini, n. 44
2015, pp. 112,
ISBN: 9788875273026
€ 15,00 -5% € 14,25