thinkin’ of a master plan
I’m a horrible self-promoter. I’m far too passive to survive for long here, at least in present shape. All the big fish in their little ponds move to New York. I knew this going in. But as summer plans A and B fall through, I’m realizing that I held a glimmer of hope that I could rely on my old subtle charms instead of plunging into the shark tank. I was wrong. I’d like to think I’ve come out of my shell a bit here (hell, I fought a man for a cab the other day) but I have work to do.
Thankfully I have the umbrella boy to bust my chops. He opens the window, lets in some fresh air, then cracks a joke or two till I have to pretend I’m not smiling. He drives me home and sings along with the radio. He knows every frickin’ song. Except for one. I reach over and twist up the volume. I know every word. I settle low in the passenger seat like the playa I am, tossing rhymes at him till he misses the turn.
- Rakim, check this out..
-Yo
-You go to your girl’s house
and I’ll go to mine
’cause my girl is definitely mad
’cause it took us too long to do this album
-Yo, I hear what you’re saying,
so let’s just pump the music up
and count our money
-Yo, well check this out…
Yo, Eli! Turn the bass down
and just let the beat keep on rockin’
and we outta here
