about
"The music industry and new media have become offensively incestuous and corny. We need to define a new underground completely removed from the machine. I have never been to a studio. I recorded this EP in my Brooklyn bedroom using only a laptop, a Plantronics headset, and a freeware four-track recorder program developed in 1996 (which, coincidentally, was also one of the greatest years in terms of hip-hop's maturation and contribution to culture). This EP is pure and organic; no marketing or tricknology. I don't want any money. I don't want any accolades. This is for me, and for the culture. Share it if you feel it and are so inclined. Bless."
- Mr. Day Job
lyrics
LYRICS:
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I'm from the stuyvesant / we go hard like a muslim with a half crescent / halal roti shops up and down every block / the A train is the vein in my hood it never stop / blue uniforms on the corner when it get hot / barbecuing out on the stoop, or on the rooftop / them ole school dreads they be quick to rush ya bumbaclot / posted on the corner like the king of fucking camelot / dirt bikes, late nights / 50 cent loosies / pet the cat in the bodega, cop a double-deucy / white people walking mad fast down nostrand / head down hoping that the bums won’t notice 'em / hustle man, DVDs, socks, and white tees / or an ice cold nutcracker, if u thirsty / kids at the ball court, hooping under street lights / dominicans is playing dominoes, sipping bud light/ girls in them short shorts, air jordans & bangles / they flag waving out here, but not the star spangled / B.I.G. blastin' out somebody second floor window / the bass sound horrible, fuck it we still jammin' tho / sneakers hang from telephone lines like it’s some mistletoe / ole heads rockin' stacy adams with a kangol / sharper than a tack, ice cold like an eskimo / them old cat daddies cool ass hell, nah really doe / nail shops, gold shops, barber shops, drop tops / every now & then you might hear a stray gunshot / I love my borough, it's so thorough / fulton to bedford, bedford down to myrtle / my heart beat to the rhythm, word to shirley chisolm / so many names, but crooklyn my favorite pseudonym / school of the hard knocks, new jacks we tutor 'dem / couple hipsters moving in, I guess the hood cool again / revitalization is just gentrification / and the hood ain't shit without west indians & haitians / 'bout five or six accents, everybody rep hard / grills gleaming like my american express corporate card / when I walk down the block, see at least four friends / weed smoke thicker than a jamaican family reunion / what you doin? man I'm going to the parkway / west indian day parade this morning is jouvet / the sunset at brooklyn bridge park looks like a bouquet / when I spit it off the top they call me emcee toupee / 11216 I rep my zip code / my crew get liver than when busta had flipmode / I'm takin' off like, 'on your mark, ready, set, get-go' / crew thicker than bulletproof glass at the liquor store
credits
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