As promised, a hiatus from ‘critical analysis’ to present a selection of readings from my upcoming EP. Please, don’t ask. Presenting ‘The Real Deal Dilettante Fraud’. Click to listen below, words beneath that.
The Real Deal Dilettante Fraud
All this talk of fake and not fake is a pointless debate,
It’s real if you say it is.
But if your affectations aren’t yours, you’re a dilettante fraud,
And that’s just the way it is.
If you say things that you don’t say, you’re creating yourself,
In a way, I can see that.
But if you say things that you don’t think you’re a cheat and a fraud
And you need to believe that.
Believe me. I know what I say, not because I’m fake but because I’m genuinely like this.
I’ve been ‘Projectbrownman’ from way back when and now, I’m
Fame evades the way I’ve made myself up to date, but no,
I don’t mind this
Because I, for one, can safely say I’ve made myself
Nice and precisely.
Every time I write these rhymes I surprise
The mind in my head ‘cause I’m so unlikely –
In T-shirt and shorts on the weekend and tie from Monday to Friday,
Who picks up a microphone and, from time to time, hits record and starts rhyming,
On a beat he stole from online and creates free mixtapes.
(No, you can’t buy this).
Just like lightning.
Model pose and my clothes are my vice, it’s
Peculiar and unusual –
Superficial but my mind is quite sprightly.
I write daily, read books nightly,
First class degree at uni (quite rightly)
I don’t know about you, but this might be the first time I ever heard a rapper quite like me
On a track with no beat in the back to distract anybody from the fact that I’m rhyming.
Listen close, and you might get a dose
Of the rapper of the moment, close,
Forerunners – I’m not a poor subber –
It’s been a warm summer but I’m a bit icy.
I stay cold, my flows are quite frozen,
Poetry flows but prose is more my scene.
From Jane Austen, to Smith, Zadie,
Read a lot of books and turned a lot of pages.
I do believe in god but I’m also a creationist, as I’m creating daily like basis.
Serious face when I rhyme, like a doctor
Hovering on top of beats – helicopter.
Take much care with my style ‘cause I’ve got to
Shake like Spear, I’m Wilde like Oscar.
Anyway, you can see that I’m literary,
Literally dripping with ink and my nib is very wet;
Staining Moleskine pages,
Ready to release the things in my brain it’s
Just a mixtape.
Skip the mistakes.
Real deal dilettante.
I need to say what’s on my mind.
The other day I rhymed
About looking for something that I may never ever find.
The key is missing for the lock that’s for the box that’s in my mind
And I might pick it in a minute (if I ever find the time)
And if I ever get the mind to take a little look inside
I cannot really guarantee that I know what I will find…
Knight the gift and call it Sir Prize,
A gift for the future in disguise
Do I keep it so elusive when I really should describe?
Alluding to the things I cannot accurately find?
And every moment of my life is affirmation of the lie,
I’m simply telling everybody that I am what I aspire.
From my whole vocabulary to my ‘funky dope’ attire,
I’m projecting a perception myself upon the eye of the beholder
And I’m holding on to values I admire.
Regal feelings –
Please, call me “sire”.
Looking at my peers like they’re residing in a mire
O why an MC can never make it any higher!
Because the world is complicated like ‘The Wire’ –
All strings attached,
I see then ‘cause I am…