Sage Francis - Underground for Dummies lyrics

rate me

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.