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Atmosphere

Minneapolis is known for many things — pretty lakes, the Mall of America, lutefisk. But 17 years ago, hip-hop act Atmosphere transformed the city into something else entirely: a nexus from which underground rap spiraled-out to the masses. And thanks to the duo’s indefatigable touring habits, Top 20-charting albums, and their galvanizing artist-owned label Rhymesayers (MF Doom, Aesop Rock), they’re still pushing the boundaries of what indie rap can mean. It’s with that overachieving-underdog spirit that MC Sean “Slug” Daley and producer Anthony “Ant” Davis have named Atmosphere’s eighth studio album Southsiders (out May 6, 2014), a shout-out to their native neighborhood. Because, says Slug, “We have spent the majority of our career — God, we can call it a career! — repping the south side of Minneapolis pretty hard.” While Southsiders is a celebration of the group’s fortitude, it is also a deeply introspective, and sometimes conflicted, work. “It’s a natural progression from the last record, The Family Sign, which was about growing my family,” says Slug, now a father to three, who finds himself contemplating mortality. “I’m starting to think, ‘What is post–family man? What am I supposed to rap about now?’ I’m sticking to my roots, rapping about what I’m doing, what I think about. This record is — much like the other ones — a very detailed look at my life.” The album captures everything from a blazing, anthemic takedown in “Southsiders,” to the ebb-and-flow of loss in the sauntering “Arthur’s Song,” to emotional abandon in the rousing “Kanye West.” The latter — and its mantra, “put your hands in the air like you really do care” — is a high-five to the rapper whose emotional reactions are often misperceived as not caring. Say Slug, “I wanted to write a song about loving something so much that you submit to the moment." All told, Southsiders took about ten months to complete. During that time, “I spent a lot of time agonizing over every detail, every word,” Slug

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[Beyond]
I peep Rap City highlights to my eyesight
Witnesses, bitches and kids fronting to bring their shit
You get nothing from this, write redundant, I leave the dumb shit
I never half-ass, my blast has you overcome with
the basement aroma, should've waited for your diploma
Instead you dropped out, now you grab the microphone to
let the fox out, I box out this center
Ripping to end your agenda cause I'm the microphone binger
Since you started rhyming you been barred from flying
Tryna push me to peep, I didn't buy your tape cause pussy is cheap
Pushing me deep, so I brush it to f*ck it
You get rusted to rubbish cause my stuff is conducted
on some thoroughness, that "f*ck the world" shit don't make it happen
You roll without friends and that sure as hell don't attract 'em
The five-man travelling band, I stand sagging my pants
Caramel skin color, the slim brother
I cancel and contort your financial support
A&Rs ridiculed for having thoughts to deliver you
Give your crew brain lacerations
You having dreams about stardom is only fame masturbation
My name has awaken the criterion
So judgement is passed, anybody budges I blast
Bussin that ass and got class for the clone
Brothers need to relax straight to the back like domes

[Chorus: Slug (Beyond)]
Where you at?
(To all the bad heads with the word)
Where you at?
(And if you getting fed by the herb)
Where you at?
(And all the brothers keeping shit tough)
Where you at?
(And others talking shit about us... bitch)

[Slug]
No excuses, I feel that there's none needed
I know that you resent me cause I study how I'm greeted
I'm quick to touch the mic for the rep and for the loot
I'm known around my village as the mouth that likes to shoot
Now I no longer have time for your irrelevance
because the ignorance is just as dangerous as the intelligence
It's all about the passage, I'm trying to grasp it
and hopefully my son will forgive me for my habits
I manage to pity those flavorless with shitty flows
Amped of their camp acting out their favorite videos
Save it, give me those trophies you call balls
for my display case, now walk away and save face
F*ck the beef, even you believe it ain't needed
I know that deep down you respect me cause you study how I'm greeted
It's sewing up seams, it's plugging holes
Slug knows it takes more than toy flows and a B-boy pose
See, he keeps it clear and he strikes the fear
and he even caught a Grammy for marketing strategy of the year
Where, oh where is the server?
Current status, emcees need to take their bras off and burn 'em

[Chorus: Beyond (Slug)]
Where you at?
(To the ones that's in the front with their hands in the air like they just don't care)
Where you at?
(And to them kids in the back tactfully surveying the stage to see who's wack)
Where you at?
(And to the ones who grab the mics at shows
house parties or by self, yeah go head, get your flow on man)
Where you at?
(And to that kid crawling out his crib at night putting fame on trains
bus benches and stop lights)

[Slug]
Lavish, I'll never have it
I get too happy doing atmospheric damage to your amateurish madness
Lavish, I'll never have it
I get too happy doing atmospheric damage to your amateurish madness
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