Okay bara til að nefna það þá eru flestir held ég sem hafa eitthvað vit á hipphoppi og vita um hvað það snýst, hlusta ekki mikið á Snoop dogg ,ja rule, 50 cent, nelly eða eitthvað svoleiðis rugl þó að sum lögin er allt í lagi í hófi. Þeir sem hlusta á svona rapp eru oftast bara hnakkar sem vita ekkert hvað snýr upp né niður í heiminum. HippHopp hefur verið í gegnum tíðina mjög pólítísk tónlist t.d. Brautryðjendur eins og Puplic enemy, krs one og svona. Eins og öll tónlist skiptist hún í tvo meginflokka góð og slæm, það er ekki hægt að segja að einhver tónlistarstefna sé bara léleg´, allar tónlistarstefnur eiga sýnar góðu og slæmu hliðar líka píkupopp þó að 95% þess sé lélegt. þeir sem segja að hipphopp sé léleg tónlist hafa oftast bara heyrt þetta lélega commercial froðu fm tónlist. prófið bara að hlusta á eitthvað gott indie hiphop, eins og Sage francis, Athmospher, gift of gap, Brother ali, Mursm Rjd2, Aesop rock, madvillain, Mf Doom og margt fleira.. það hiphop sem ég fíla er aðalega svona tilraunarkennt listrænt hiphop með einlægna texta og flókna tónsmíð. Það er bara svo ömurlegt þegar einhver ´rakkar niður tónlistarstefnu sem hann veit ekkert um. Hiphop er bara örugglega miskildasta tónlistarstefna sem er til. Ég hef heyrt marga rokkara segja að það séu bara heimskulegir textar í hipphoppi en að mínu mati eru textarnir hjá röppurum sem ég hlusta á í dag bara bestu textar sem eru í gangi í dag. svo ég ætla bara að sýna ykkur tvo texta með uppháhalds rapparanum mínum.

This is to the (uh-uh) intertwined souls
the hands I've been trying to hold
This is to the (uh-uh) love that I lost
and all the troubling thoughts of how I got double-crossed
and this is to the (uh-uh) divorce I was forced to settle with
and the remorse I fought off with metal fists
and this is to the (uh-uh) wet, watery kiss I left you with
on your porch as I watched your trembling lips

This is to the… memory of our early years
the first girl I shared feelings with
and it's the realest thing I'd experienced in my short existence
and I ain't afraid to admit
cause love is one of the things that doesnt come with an age limit
now does it? In fact I'ma have to say I'm more keen to feel such things
hopeless things I'd lost in a smokescreen of meaningless fucking
Touching without touching, candles in the dark
casting shadows on our parents battles, this is for the romantics at heart
It wasn't long before I held you more then my pen
when I wasn't writing songs, it was something like
“Forever and always, whenever those songs play…”
I remember empty hallways
or your image that descended from the top floor became an echo
I paid the price for those hard things, and couldn't afford to let go
From a passive debt, I'm past regret
Did you know I dreamt about you before we met?
Remembering our first kiss, and it ain't even happened yet
Recollecting your set, and I wasn't even given the chance to forget
I guess that's the magic of it
Now every rehashed subject's displaying what I wrote
on cafe napkins to the public
to get it over and done with, closure hath cometh
My shoulders are plummeted from holding these buckets
Hold your laughs till I go back to the tunnels of Paris
where I wrote half of these paragraphs… but fuck it

This is to my ten year story, in another decade
you better be better prepared for me
in the first four years, you were all ears
then for the next six, you left me for the next exit
with depth to my message
So that began my affair with the world abroad
Behind the curtain with the other hurtful girls I explored
Until I became the monster, turning to the words that I record
Part of me, if you heard it all before
“I didn't shake you to hurt you”
when you landed on the floor
In a room of naked virtues
I closed my eyes to cancel what I saw
Your hand made the first move to the handle of the drawer
where the frail girl couldn't think to live
“I didn't shake you to hurt you”
I never planned it before
I can't shake off your perfume, can't wash my hands no more
and I'm breaking my curfew, but I can't walk
I'm standing at the door, I hear the wailing of a little kid
…and the failure of innocence
His compromise eyeing the side of the kitchen sink
What'you think, I just let you cut you, cut me– cut the bullshit
Damn, I love the hugs enough to tolerate
the way we made each other crazy, making it so tough to operate
Productively, my self esteem didn't help when I felt ugly
and I figured that's the reason why you wouldn't trust me
My ego does bleed, I shouldn't have let you test it
and let your arms free to follow up with your domestic slip up
Love is a battlefield so lick your shots quick
while I lick my wounds and then resume as an obvious target
Infatuations with the past protect my Purple Heart with
a faded picture I had in my shirt pocket
I'm going out with a bang..
in a blaze of glory holes, the anti-hero
I don't care how many ways the story's told
Be careful when these doolies play like drums
and be careful what you say, because my uzi weighs a tongue..

This is to the sleepless evenings that I spent next to grave stones
Hoping someone from beyond would grab my arm and take me home
I hadn't accepted I'd have to make it alone
after feeding everything I had into a payphone
and this is to the rain..
I felt like it was made of spit
My parade was an unbreakable chain of Gabe's trumpets
Save the buckets even though they weighed down my walking
You don't know the height of the steak you place your fork in
You look old (that's what you said)
I feel old (that's what I said)
I been through a lot since you been gone, dead, born again
torn to shreads over girls who were porcelain
the cry-baby dolls, when we were allowed to talk again
I stopped accepting break-up calls (that ring true)
I hate the way I fall for everything you do
Our fate is flawed, that's why I make these break-up songs to sing to you
Music is my only psychiatric drug
And you're a pill in human form I'd like to hide under my tongue
Kiss the foot that couldn't fit into the slipper of my mouth
The denizen in your house begging for the benifit of your doubts
When I got kicked out, I played the faithful puppy dog
Loyal to the love alost, sitting at your fucking door in utter disbelief
I sucked all of the skin off of my teeth
you pulled away, you let me choke on your invisible leash
You can find me hiding these screams behind my eyelids
She blinded me (she blinded me) with science..
So my air-mail lips blew her a fairwell kiss
Slinking over the sink, where all the hair gel drips
Stairwells dip deep into her mouth where I found a cycle
and ever since then, I've been on a downward spiral
this round is final, it's time to recover
because it's a porch that some dogs choose to die under
the first song was a breakdown, I apologize in round two
this version of certain, this shit ain't even about you
It's the threewrite..





TITLE: Inherited Scars
AUTHOR: Sage Francis
Verse One:
I didn't tell anyone about what I seen or heard that day, mums the word still. /
I'm scared to plant ideas into your head while your rebellious side is fertile. /
Hurdles are getting knocked down…I'm running a losing race. /
Your legs aren't the only ones marked up. How many dreams have you chased? /
If I could have said this to your face maybe you wouldn't have to write like I do, /
Except I use paper instead of my body now; it's something you might want to try too /
From haikus to horror stories, it's something in our blood that we share, /
Something in our blood that appears on the surface of our skin when we bring it there. /
My facial expression said I didn't care. /
Hate and aggression must've made an impression on the little kid who stared, /
Sitting on stairs when I would bother to bring my skates… /
My feeble attempt at being a strong, big brother…doing father figure 8's. /
Ripping my cape on the ground that it dragged on. /
Tripping on fate and hearing the sounds of a sad song. /
Listen, it's great sharing time now that dad's gone, /
But what's with the choice of words? Or the body parts that you decided to tag them on? /
I'm a bagabond who moved to modern day Babylon and then back again /
With minimal contact and you know I can't ask your mom what's happening. /
You've got such beautiful gifts. What are you doing ruining the packaging? /
How ironic…come to think…I probably put this ink on my back for him. /
I want you to laugh and sing more, /
But you dropped anchor in a place where dreams go to die and you're keeping your ass indoors. /
I'm asking for you to stick it out…and see things through. /
You're asking for me to zip my mouth and keep it just between me and you. /
Chorus:
If I could have been there from the beginning…if I could be there right now… /
if I could promise to be there when you need me, would it raise an eyebrow? /
How would your body be different if I still dropped by for visits? /
Is it my place to put a smile on your face? /
Could I erase your body language telling you its all been said before? /
Or change the words you wrote, exchanging your scars for my metaphors? /
I'd add them to my collection while smiling. /
Next time you want to paint with razor blades and need a canvas use my skin. /
Verse Two:
You're hiding your sins well, but I see the hell that your limbs speak. /
Tongue in cheek. Lying awake in bed while other kids sleep. /
The strength of evil begins to keep your grins weak. /
No matter the length of the needle, marking up one's body is so much more than skin deep. /
Feel the pin prick. The grim reep what they sew and you're trained to say that you're fine. /
Your thresh hold for pain is greater than mine. /
So I'm waiting in the lines that you give me…patiently, /
While you get cut in the lines that THEY make YOU wait in…in ways that they can't see. /
If there's a vacancy as far as room in your life goes, /
say it to me. Don't do it with a knife under your clothes. /
Because the anguish of hidden skin…is letting my ghosts be shown. /
Plus the language its written in hits especially close to home. /
I'm most alone when I'm out of touch with the people who feel this type of pain. /
You might just aim for a day that its raining…to strike a vein to take my name in. /
Changing your uniform and altering your mind set. /
Has your pointer finger decided if it was a fault of his or mine yet?…I bet. /
I know the dialect. It's nowhere I haven't been before /
With skin that's sore. Battle scars that rise from our inner war /
Are decorative medals of honor that our father decided to pass through inheritance /
And it is repetitive when the kids head in the direction of evidence…proving the pain and hurt is relative. /
All this pain and hurt is relative. /
(repeat chorus)
Fade to black.


Þetta getur nú varla verið innihaldslausir heimskulegir texta