LUMPENPROLETARIATKiller Mike provocatively puts the question to the lumpenproletariat, the thugs, and all the bangers: When are ya’ll gonna unite and fight the powers that be? Although he couches it in different linguistics, the sentiment’s the same. Killer Mike reproaches the “vicious” of society, rapping:
“Liars and politicians, profiteers of the prisons/ The forehead engravers, enslavers of men and women/Includin’ members of clergy that rule on you through religion“.
And, of course, Zack de la Rocha always brings the conscious lyrics with his rhythm and flow. To close out his only verse, Zack de la Rocha invokes the proletariat: The only thing that close quicker than our caskets be the factories. El-P‘s always dope, too. Here, he reminds me of MC Ren (an all-time favourite) in a mindful state. Also, the entire track reminds me of Saul William‘s “Black History Month“, from the rapid-fire vocal sample (in this case, invoking 2 Live Crew‘s “Get It Girl”; Run the Jewels uses Zack’s vocal for the rapid-fire hypnotic hook) to the Bonhamesque drum rhythms. I meant to put this up, since before (since Tom first showed me this video; shout out to Modesto CopWatch). This is an intense video in its cinematography, soundtrack, and acting, visceral.
[Zack De La Rocha:]
Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, run them, fuck the slow mo
[Killer Mike (El-P):]
Fashion slave, you protestin’ to get in a fuckin’ look book
Everything I scribble’s like The Anarchist Cookbook
(Look good, posing in a centerfold of Crook Book)
Black on black on black with a ski mask, that is my crook look
How you like my stylin’, breh? Ain’t nobody stylin’, breh
‘Bout to turn this mothafucka up like Riker’s Island, breh Where my thuggers and my cripples and my bloodles and my brothers? When you niggas gon’ unite and kill them police, mothafuckas? Or take over a jail, give those COs hell The burnin’ of the sulfur, God damn I love the smell
Like it’s a pillow torchin’; where the fuck the warden?
And when you find him, we don’t kill him, we just waterboard him
We killin’ ’em for freedom ‘cos they tortured us for boredom
And even if some good ones die, fuck it, the Lord’ll sort ’em
[El-P (Killer Mike):]
We out of order, your honor, you’re out of order
This whole court is unimportant, you fuckers are walkin’ corpses
I’m a flip wig synonym, livin’ within distortion
I’ll bite into a cyanide molar before you whores win
I’m a New Yorkian, I fuck for the jump
I wear my Yankee so tilted I actually walk with a hunch
Look at Mikey, I think he likey, we are sinister sons
(Aye, we the type to beat the preacher with a grin and a gun)
[Hook – Zack De La Rocha:]
Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them
Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them
[El-P (Killer Mike):]
A wise man once said, (“We all dead, fuck it”)
Just spit it disgusting youngin’, and hold your nuts while you’re gunnin’
I listened, tatted a sentence on my dick last summer
Now, I’ll never get that phrase off my brain; it’s no wonder
I’m here to buy hearts, I got hundreds, honey
The cheaper the parts, the better buy for the money
I’m trained in vagina whisperin’, glistenin’
Waitin’ for their christenin’, I know the neighbors can’t help but listen in
A dirty boy who come down on a side of diss[ide]nce
I can’t even relax without sirens off in the distances
Not shittin’ you, little buddy, this fuckin’ island’s a prison
The only silence I have is an act of conjugal visitin’
[Killer Mike (El-P):]
My solitary condition’s preventin’ conjugal visits
Go mane and missin’ my misses; they keepin’ me from my children Conditions create a villain, the villain is givin’ vision
The vision becomes a vow to seek vengeance on all the vicious Liars and politicians, profiteers of the prisons The forehead engravers, enslavers of men and women Includin’ members of clergy that rule on you through religion
(So strippin’ kids to the nude and then tell ’em God’ll forgive ’em)
[Hook]
[Zack De La Rocha:]
It’s De La on the cut, liftin’ 6 on your stitchy crew
I’m miles ahead of you, you can sip my bitches brew
My battle status is burnin’ mansions from Dallas to Malibu
Check my résumé, your residence is residue
Call her a skin job and my honey dip’ll backflip for you
You playin’, God your eye sockets, she gon’ rip in two
We sick of bleedin’ out a trace, spray a victim, you
Done dyin’, Phillip AK Dickin’ you
With clips in the bottom, we dippin’ from Gotham
Yes, eclipsed by the shadows, a dark dance to the coffin
I’m a fellow with melanin, suspect of a felony
Ripped like Rakim Allah, feds is checkin’ my melody
Yes, aggressively tested we’ll bump stretchers and penalties
Dump cases with face and the cop pleas when we seizing a pump
With reason to dump on you global grand dragons
Still pilin’ fast, plus Afghani toe taggin’
Now, they trackin’ me and we bustin’ back, see The only thing that close quicker than our caskets be the factories
[RUN THE JEWELS lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. “Close Your Eyes (And Count to Fuck)” lyrics are provided here for educational and personal use only.]
[Image entitled “RunTheJewelsRTJ2” by Source. Licensed under CC BY 3.0 via Wikipedia.]
KRS-One is an all-time favourite. When I first heard the, now, classic recording by Boogie Down Productions, “My Philosophy” it blew my mind. Here, KRS raps:
When they flooded the streets with crack cocaine I was like Noah; now they lower ‘cos the whole Cold War is over Communism fell to the dollars; you were grabbin’ it All the assault and batterin’ in the name of intelligence gatherin’
And, of course, as The Last Emperor raps, “Zack de la Rocha brings the enraged flow.” But The Last Emperor brings pure fire on this track, rapping:
As free market capitalism and technology expands The third world’s fertile soil becomes a desert wasteland So it takes bands to, demand the, government provide answers when Lady Liberty has me Bewitched like Samantha And poverty is one of the most malignant forms of cancer to all my Black Magic romancers and acid rain dancers Develop close ties like Jerry Seinfeld and George Costanza We fear no man and throw jams that attack counterintelligence programs
—Messina
“C.I.A. (Criminals In Action)” (1999) by Zack de la Rocha, KRS-One, and The Last Emperor
[KRS-One]
Yea yea yea yea yea!
KRS-One comin through, Big Zack, Last Emperor
WOOP WOOP! Ha hah, that’s the sound of EMS
Ha hah, Last Emperor, KRS
Ha hah, Big Zack you know the rest
Now we gonna come down like this now, hold tight all crew
LISTEN!!
[Zack de la Rocha]
This voice shatters the calm of the day, like an alarm
To wake up badder youth, and take up arms
Cause more is necessary than vocabulary war
Cause the toxic rock imports, gettin on your door
C.I.A. I see ya later, cause your time is comin soon
I flip the shit like, Pacino and it’s your Dog Day Afternoon
Attica Attica, drug agents your bring your static-a
My alphabet will slash that neck and flip you, automatica
Dramatic, like Ali Shaheed Muhammed brought the vibe
I bring the sun at Red Dawn to pull the thoughts of Franz Fanon
So stand at attention, devil dirge
You never survive choosin sides against the wretched of the earth
The infiltrator, tribe intoxicator, people incarcerator
Liberation movement annihilator
We got you clocked pushin rocks and it fail
We got brothers troopin subways like the Ho Chi Manh trail
We got the truth data, Last Emperor, KRS and
history manifested, tomorrow next lesson
[Chorus: all together, with samples]
YOU CLAIM I’M SELLIN CRACK, BUT YOU BE DOIN THAT
“You, claim, you claim, you, you claim, claim
You, claim I’m sellin crack, but you be doin that” – [KRS] [Zach] You know the cops they got a network for the toxic rock
YOU CLAIM I’M SELLIN CRACK, BUT YOU BE DOIN THAT
“So get that flashlight out of my face” – [Big L]
“You, you, you claim I’m sellin crack, but you be doin that” – [KRS] [KRS] The Last Emperor, KRS-One, and Big Zack
[The Last Emperor] As free market capitalism and technology expands The third world’s fertile soil becomes a desert wasteland So it takes bands to, demand the, government provide answers when Lady Liberty has me Bewitched like Samantha And poverty is one of the most malignant forms of cancer to all my Black Magic romancers and acid rain dancers Develop close ties like Jerry Seinfeld and George Costanza We fear no man and throw jams that attack counterintelligence programs
Exciting like the epic adventures of Conan (hah!)
I colonize minds like Zaire by the Belgians
Now what the hell is the problem with this system and what it sells us
I bring ancient relics like Wyclef did to Zealots
I saw an Iron Curtain called hip-hop and got it open like Boris Yeltsin
Whirlwind, tornadoes, in the rain forest if you say so (whosssshhh)
KRS and The Last Emperor like the Green Hornet and Kato
Zach de la Rocha brings the enraged flow, but all three drop science
and become the most powerful alliance since NATO
[Chorus: all together, with samples]
YOU CLAIM I’M SELLIN CRACK, BUT YOU BE DOIN THAT
“You, claim I’m sellin crack, but you be doin that” – [KRS]
YOU CLAIM I’M SELLIN CRACK, BUT YOU BE DOIN THAT [Zach] You know the cops they got a network for the toxic rock
YOU CLAIM I’M SELLIN CRACK, BUT YOU BE DOIN THAT
“So get that flashlight out of my face” – [Big L]
YOU CLAIM I’M SELLIN CRACK, BUT YOU BE DOIN THAT [KRS] The Last Emperor, KRS-One, and Big Zack
[KRS-One]
Need I say the C.I.A. be Criminals In Action
Cocaine crack unpackin, high surveillance trackin
Prominant blacks and whites givin orders for mass slaughters
I want all my daughters to be like Maxine Waters
When they flooded the streets with crack cocaine
I was like Noah, now they lower cause the whole cold war is over
Communism fell to the dollars you were grabbin it
All the assault and batterin in the name of intelligence gatherin?
Now it’s karma you battlin, a losin fight
I chose the mic to recite ignite light in the night, aight?
We should beat em, President Clinton should delete em
it’s not hard, the C.I.A. simply has no more job
Oh my Goddess, mother, you can fix this
We rock over mixes not six six sixes
Yo this is, the message, to all that can hear it
If you got secret information now’s the time to share it
Call your Congresswoman, your senator, your mayor
It’s time for all the scholars to unite with all the players
Rearrangin, see times are definitely changin G
They used to tap the phone, now they tappin while you pagin me
It’s crazy B, yet it’s plain to see, who the enemy
Who’s left the NRA? The ATF, the AMA?
Okay okay, it’s all irrelevant, cause in the new millenium
there’ll be no Central Intelligence
Uh, yea, uh, yea
Throw your hands up
You know whassup kid, throw your hands up
Ha hah yeah, hah hah, yeah