Old lady holding purse tight shout shut off that racket
But that racket happen to be me rapping out my tax bracket
I told her one man’s noise is another man’s symphony
And one man’s trash lid another man’s timpani
Couldn’t afford guitars, we took the sounds that we wanted
To speak on how we felt unwanted. They say we wanton
But it don’t warrant them wanting us with arrest warrants
They say our music is stupid cause it don’t sound like Warrant?
Who decides what’s wanted and what’s unwanted sound
In rap, we take what’s around us to make art that’s found
Like the leftovers and waste that they cooked up with soul
They would take all these noises they’d mold, they’d control
We’d hear all this shouting, ’bout our hubbub and hullabaloo
Gullible you, boys make noise, buffed toys, a hell of a crew
Now they clamor for the clamor when it bring the glitz and glamour
Cameras flashing with the fashion in the club they getting hammered
And that commotion turned the wheels of capitalism into motion
Our noise on top of charts, in ad campaigns to sell lotion
So I keep my pants sagging and I don’t turn my noise down
Because that noise is the voice of the brown sounds in my towns.
Heems’ debut album, Eat Pray Thug, is out now.