"Pain is growing Seaver-ish"
Among the huge amount of new music I have to listen to lately, one 7-track mixtape I keep going back to is Lupe Fiasco's Enemy Of The State. I've said it before - this shit is nuts. Below is the verse Lupe spit over the beat for "Say Something" by Timbaland. There's a lot of clever shit in this one. Seeing it in writing even made it more apparent as there were a few things I had missed in my multiple listens.
It's funny, until recently I didn't even realize that Timbaland recorded his own verses for the song. I had a version with Drake only. Then Lupe dropped his verse. Then I found a blend of the two of them on the same track, so I was banging that for a while. It was only a week or so ago that I saw the making of the video for the album version of the song and heard Timbaland's part in the background. He had a story around it and everything. Who knew? Anyway, read Lupe's verse below.
Uh, Opus of a ghetto boy who grew into a project man
Brewster Place, he used to stick his scissors in the sockets damn,
clear that Project Runway, 'cause this is where my rocket lands,
ain’t got no problems, Houston, I A.K.A. then rocket land.
Events recent that lit a fire under him like pots and pans,
rockets and I (eye) up in the sky like helicopter cams
And you down there in the traffic jam
from here I’ve seen a bunch of fake shit like avid wrestlin' fans
Came up from the bottom of the eye exam...ZOOM
Now I’m like the biggest G off in the room,
still hard to see me like the truth on TV
or the roof from the sidewalk, I don’t flo' (floor), I ceiling
My mama said they need me...
'cause, I’m made from the best stuff on earth like Snapple Tea Leaves,
they glass is half full so I spit into them like Celie,
no longer G, now you can C (see) me
but your letter's still under my sea like seaweed
C and G but nothing bout me C-G, It’s all real, none of this is green screen
"Shut Up and Let Me Go" just like The Ting Tings,
I’m feelin' like a Mac, standing around a bunch of PCs.
I’ve rocked it from the shouters to the soccer moms,
try to stop what’s going on
you’ll see the back of my hand like the tops of palms,
I’m balling like the tops of pawns,
circle of influence getting bigger like the ripples on the tops of ponds.
Short-footed and War Headed like the tops of bombs,
Domino-in n****'s, delivery is Papa John's, Little Ceaser‘s, uh,
burning down your Pizza Hut
Plaque collection building 'cause, I don’t brush my teeth enough,
yeah, crack is wack and reefer sucks, you might think this deep as fuck
but this like my weaker stuff,
they ask “Is this his day-to-day? 'cause this is like a week to us”
Mic is shy and speakers blush, I is shy (Chi) and he is up,
I correct, me is up - no we is up - cause its like two of me
and each of us, rappin' acid, eat this up,
A-Town down, peace is up, New York to East Coast is tough,
West Side ridin', lot of n****'s salty 'cause,
'cause I be overseas and tough.
Everything seamless, WorldStar never seen this,
NahRight gotta stream this, motherfuckin' genius!
Brave and fly, you backbone-less and wingless,
bunch of chickens on the strip, I’m coming for they fingers...
till what they throwin' up is meaningless
Chilly Chill you seeing this? This didn’t make MTV’s list
Finish fingers, eating wrist, feedin' frenzy and shit,
Succotash stuffering, Chicken-Frikasee'en this
a beat eatin' media blitz,
pace is getting feverish, pain is growing Seaver-ish,
these the peppers Peter picked,
things are at their easiest, Real Compton city G’in it
but I’m from Chicago...house lights, bravooos!