I had a notion to comb the small ads
To find myself a part-time job in the midst of a recession
To alleviate my lack of finance while
Extending my contractor’s benefit entitlement
But my CV is lightweight, I’m a low-calorie spread
Empty luggage like a post-abortive womb I’ve
Written forests of personal statements
But it doesn’t take long to get from the emotive to the impulsive
Faced with their mantras
Apart from rap, I only know how to rap
I’ve never scratched
Shined the shoes of a middle manager
Still I mark the job offers with a highlighter pen
Soon I’ll be grafting for some gaffer
When the casting page of my broadsheet
Informs me that a big producer needs a rapper
Career, and shared royalties contract
For the most highly motivated candidate, yeah!
I’ve got every chance, I’ve got independence credits
And this year I’ve toured more than all the groups in France
I’ve shaken thousands of hands exchanged thousands of looks
And repeated a thousand times may the peace of God be upon you
So, at the last chance audition
I’ll present myself as the latest trend
An explosive MC with lyrics written in fire
Half politico, half raging hardcore
It’s D-Day
And a few yards away from the panel
I write a few rhymes
To impress their ears
That works a trick, which began with an ace:
“I need a Bic, a beat, and a big fat bass”
The room is full of contenders
Veterans of the waves and the independent scene
All revising their words readjusting their flow
With the latest high-fashion gear on their backs
I’ve put on my Nikes and my jogging suit
The keffiyeh I got free from the brothers at Gaza Team
Médine, candidate 11 thousand 01
Gets ready and goes back into the exam hall
Good morning members of the jury
I’ve got a few wordplays without swearwords which may entertain you
I’ve played them to all the people in my jungle
Praise and encouragement I got from my monkeys
There are so many messages so let’s rap with no further ado
Before my chain starts to sag
I’ve got verses to suit every taste
What do you want as a preview?
A little Shakur style 16?
Right then
OK here goes
I rap with closed eyes, open heart
Fists clenched, mouth open
Not holding back, but almost open
Not surly, but just the opposite
I’m rapping for the second class citizens
The ones who have nothing, the ones who lose out
The ones who get no breaks, and all those you put away
[Verse 3]
What? I’d never want to be a community activist
Any more than a sixties black guy on a Lit degree course
Forced to admit that your cancer has no cure
I’d never shoot my plans on your comet
I wish Addison’s disease on all of you
Speeches and origins are the barriers I’m adding up
And then I don’t even know why I still audition for swede-bashers who search our albums for potential line-dance singles
Straight out of business school
You stink of hang-ups not comfortable in your skin with your Converses on
Don’t go making me pay for what you went through before
In your respective lesson breaks
Rap is ours
It belongs to Men not the nobility
It’s not neutral and part of the furniture
And it’s certainly not a skewerful of monkeys
Teaching me sound while parked in a Louis Quinze chair
Call Security before I jump out of my seat
So you get my middle class fist in your face
My middle kick in your slice of fruitcake
You music video bunglers and cheque pocketers
You want mainstream, you want summer hits
The only hit I’d get you dancing to would be from a sawn-off shotgun
You white settlers, condescending, wrapped up in your own egos
I’ll blow your house down one records at a time like on the Home Improvement channel
I don’t belong to any generation
Since Sky became less political than Comedy Radio
My opening
Is back in its burka now all the ‘just becauses’ in the world don’t answer my whys…
I started rap for the same reasons which drove me to refuse to go and graft for a two-bit crooked boss
A dead-end day-to-day, it’s virtual slavery
10 years later I’m facing the same consequences
But this time if on my own discipline
Having to tug my forelock and grovel to do my own job
So advise myself and future teams
Refuse the proffered hand and act like the dog beaten too long who growls even when he gets a friendly stroke
Let’s get organized, in a group, a collective, an association, who cares, as long as it comes from ourselves, as long as the initiative comes from ourselves
And let’s not leave the key to rap with the power-mad degenerates, who make our careers a talking point
That’s Arabian Panther’s word!