Lyrics Can the Sub_Bass Speak? - Algiers

Can the Sub_Bass Speak?

Niggas don’t know how to act
What is this?
This ain’t hip-hop
This ain’t punk rock
You ain’t punk rock
You ain’t hip-hop
What is this?
What style of music do you play?
What kind of music do you play?
What do you call that music?
What genre is this?
How do you mix all these genres together?
Why do you mix all these genres together?
How do you do that?
Yeah, yeah, I see, it’s kinda like gospel-punk
Soul-punk, soul-rock, doom-soul
What is this fusion?
Man, it’s more like confusion
I like the punk but I don’t like the soul
I like the soul but I don’t really like the punk
It’s soulful, but why do you have to make it ugly?
Oh, you don’t even know what your sound is
Nah nigga, you don’t know how to act
All these niggas don’t know how to act
Where you from?
Nah, where you really from?
No, where you really from in Africa?
You look like your ancestors might have come from Mali
You know, I spent a summer there once and you look like them
Nah, that’s not your real voice, is it?
Is that your real voice?
Why do you talk like that?
And you don’t really, you don’t really dress like that, do you?
Nah, you, you don’t really talk like a black guy
I mean, you’re black but you ain’t really black
You don’t really act black, nigga
Yeah, you’re more a negro than a nigga
Yeah, and you’re pretty cool for a nigga but you ain’t really a nigga
You know what I’m sayin'?
You know that Chris Rock sketch where he says
That there’s a difference between black people and niggas?
Yeah, why, why can’t I say it?
Why are you allowed to say it but we can’t say it?
Nah, fucking nigga, you don’t really know how to act
All you niggas don’t really know how to act
How does it feel to be a black man making white music?
Uh, a middle aged black man observing young white people
Shout the n-word to rap songs
A 35 year old black man observing young white people
Shout the n-word to rap songs
They’re bombastic but to the point of kitsch
Even though the issues at hand are a matter of life and death
Uh, never mentioning the name
Of victims of racially motivated violence
The effect is weirdly impersonal, so over the top
It’s political melodrama
Fuck your experience, nigga
Uh, you ain’t from the hood
You ain’t got gold in your mouth
Nigga, you ain’t never been in jail
You’re too old and too inauthentic
Fuck young, gifted, and black, nigga
You don’t know how to act
All you niggas don’t know how to act
I love what you do but I wish you would just get off
Of the identity politics and start talking about structural politics
You know who you remind me of?
You remind me of TV on the Radio
You remind me of Fishbone
You remind me of Gary Clark Jr
You remind me of Bad Brains
You remind me of Living Colour
You remind me of Lenny Kravitz
You know who you look like?
You look like Laurence Fishburne
You look like Usher
You look like Forest Whitaker
You look like Paul George
You look like Denzel Washington
You look like that cat from 24
What?
I’m just trying to be nice
Fuck you, nigga
All you niggas don’t know how to act
All you niggas don’t know how to act
Oh, you know I love black girls
I fucked a black girl once, you know
I got black friends, too
You know, one of my best friends was a nigga when I was growing up
And we used to play basketball together
And he could jump and run so fast 'cause he had an extra muscle
Did you know that?
Y’all got an extra muscle in your leg
You got it from when you was runnin' from the slave masters
Oh, but you niggas still don’t know how to act
All you niggas don’t know how to act
You know what black music is, right?
Yeah, I love old school hip-hop
You know, does, you know, does it bother you
When white people dance to your music at shows?
Did you used to be a preacher?
Oh, you’re from Atlanta, I love trap music
That’s the home of trap music
You know what that is, right?
Oh, but you know Bob Dylan created rap
Oh, you know Cee-Lo Green?
Oh, yo, you niggas don’t know how to act
A Love Supreme, that got 10 out of 10
You know, Michael Jackson’s Thriller got Best New Nigga
But you still don’t know how to act
All you niggas don’t really know how to act
«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing
They give him drank and take away the water
«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing
They tattoo his face with quaint obscenities
«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing
They hack off his tongue ceremoniously
With all institutional pomp and circumstance
«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing
They tie him to be quartered to the four major pillars of validation
«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing
They decorate him in gold
«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing
Exhausted in the briers, he sighs a resigned contortion
They seize it at birth and bottle it for voyeuristic observation
And anthropological instruction
Then put it on display in natural history museums
Pornographic textbooks, designer drag window displays
And conspiracy websites
Dance like a monkey
Chatter like an ape
Put on the jacket and the full face
Everyone will applaud
They clangor on this way
Until he hits the ground
Then they finally give the thumbs down