hiphoplives

As if I needed an excuse to play some Jay Electronica for you, and transcribe some of his fine poetics, this track in particular is new to me. I don’t know if it’s new exactly, like with most of Jay’s music, I’m never really sure when it was recorded or how and when it was officially released, but I just got this one recently. It’s typical of Jay’s music, beautifully hideous and painful joy transferred to your brain via a super-conscious stream of vision. Things’ll never be the same.

I spit that, wonder rhymer shit, me and my conglomerates, shall remain anonymous, caught up in the finest shit/get that type of media coverage Obama get/spit that Kurt Vonnegut, that blow your brain Kurt Cobain that Nirvana shit/who gone bring the game back, who gone spit that Remo on the train tracks/that gold rope, that 5 finger ring rap/runnin with my same pack/you can find the Christ where the lepers and the lames at/life is like a dice game, one roll could land you in jail or cuttin cake blowin kisses in the rice rain/nice whip nice chain a closet of skulls/the stench is like slave blood at providence hall/yeah, they built my city on top of a grave/nigga die, nigga get high, and watch the parade/back then, the early 90’s ‘where they at, where they at, get the gat, get the gat’ was a popular phrase/Bally animals and rugbys was the popular craze/this the vivid memoirs of an obnoxious slave/I paved ways like Nat and Harriot/I blast on Judas Iscariots and peel off in the chariot/I’m sittin pretty spittin flames grippin grain, ain’t a damn thing change

They say Candyman, Candyman, spit me a dream/blow a chunk of the levy out and spit me a stream/knock a man house down and build a casin(o)/a 2000 dollar government check from FEM(A)/I swam down shit’s creek and came up clean/with a new lease on life like Andy Dufresne/its the most poetical, nat king unforgettable/Clarence 13X Allah’s rhapsody from Belleview/I’m splittin atoms spittin flames bringin change/things’ll never be the same/I got the rap game singing at last like Etta James/lames get they plane shot down like John McCain/its’s a dream it’s a dream, the flow is elegant like Miss Coretta Scott King/a lot of kings seen death and turned queen/crack they 24 inch rims in the ravine, respect the architect, never test the Elohim/goodnight this is Jay Elect live from New Orleans.

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