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Underground for Dummies

by Sage Francis

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  • English (English)
  • Français (French)
  • Español (Spanish)

And you'll know it was me by the trail of demos Spare me the details, e-mails, memos Dookie-gold chain letter to whom it may concern Put this around your neck until your hangin on my every word Stalkin', walkin' in my big black boots I'm the DLY artist with thick grass roots Had a couple managers as a youth I was too young to know better but I was like "What does a manager do?" Now one of them he saw dollar signs in my skin color The other, he said to keep it undercover Post-VIP Posse, Pre-Internet Nazi era Powers of suggestion suggested I be what I'm not and that's not me ever From Lasienega to Meadowbrook Drive Never looked surprised Cut to the chase with metal hooks and knives Now it's battle time, I stepped in the arena Thirteen year old gladiator freak with a fever for the flavor of a fight on the mic Follow the leader Mistachuck was the surrogate father Krs-One, the teacher There I was, sneakin into clubs Beat an emcee to the punch over instrumentals dubbed From tape deck to tape deck Pause tape mix at breakneck speed The only whitey in sight That doesnt make me realer than you, or faker than you But I'm authentic, forget it Started breakin rules Ten years later still hadnt stopped Won the biggest battle in a Metallica shirt before the album dropped A week later, smashed the trophy at a show It was takin up the space that I needed to grow Pop pop goes the weasel (the weasel) Drop drop goes the easel (the easel) This is hip hop for the people Stop callin it emo (waah) I know a kid who thinks he's hip hop cause he buys it I know a kid who thinks he's hip hop cause he never buys shit Underground or mainstream Some are bound to change schemes Y'all weren't doin this dirt When Jeru came clean Before the Freddie Foxxx conflict with DMX Around the time Jay-Z and Nas's girl had sex I used to wake up every morning on a hard wooden floor Livin in Brooklyn with a car I couldnt afford And if I wasn't hangin out in front of Fat Beats records, I was in the factory, mailing my 12-inches Nowadays, the DJs don't even spin wax So fuck a promo copy, buddy, you can download the track Seratooo promo sexual laptop A hollow existence in a bottle Ya' sip sip and swallow I tripped quick then followed a path that made sense Started out with a live band then worked with turntablists Now I strike a match with the back of my front teeth And light up the stage with just speech I remember the days Ken and Dave let me crash on their couch And I saved what I could and put the cash in my mouth When I played in my hood I had a fraction of outs Til Atmosphere put me on and now I'm packin the house Since the mid-80s this has been a game of cat and mouse It's funny hearin all the shit these rappers brag about Knowin all of them are walkin around with massive doubts Talkin bout it's only status and platinum plaques that count Pop pop goes the weasel (the weasel) Drop drop goes the easel (the easel) This is hip hop for the people (the people) Stop calling it emo (wah) Irony is dead, it's so motherfucking dead, I was there by it's deathbed And the last words that it said Was "Whiiiiite booyyyy" I'm Still Sick with an independent record labek I built quick just when I got Sick of Waiting Tables Then in the blink of an eye I waged War As a Known Unsoldier with a soul you can't pay for I ran a business on my own two legs Known to beg if I needed to with Home Grown bootlegs. I cut and pasted images of my face and then sloppily placed 'em in a case. Strange Famous. I stayed True when School was in Session. Went to college to buy time, that shit was expensive. So I shamelessly self-promoted The radio station would open doors and opportunities Eventually made it to Oakland where anticon accepted me with open hands Journals fot Personal on a one dollar advance. Non-Prophets had a hope that a UK label smashed, so I crossed out my eyes and signed to Epitaph This is the hustle of an emcee The Distrust is Healthy In a dirty industry where the promises are empty I'm more honest than friendly More handsome than sexy Let me bring you up to speed, Humans do a Dance that's Deadly.

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Underground for Dummies

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The title of a famous Beach Boys song released in 1964
A Run, Run,Run
B Fun, Fun, Fun
C Gun, Gun, Gun
D Sun, Sun, Sun

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