Chris Explains Rap Lyrics to White People

So yeah. I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel for topics. Writer’s block is a bitch.

Anyway. There’s a huge cultural difference between African Americans and European Americans. Caucasians. Crackers. Whatever. We white people have almost no clue what it’s like, and especially what it has been like, to be black in America. Nowhere is this more apparent than in language. Well, police brutality, but also language. I’ve been told that I understand black culture pretty well. For a honky, anyway. As a public service, I’m going to try to explain lyrics to rap songs, so that white people can hopefully gain a little understanding and perspective.

Today, I’m going to analyze Tupac Shakur’s “Letter to the President”. It was written to President Clinton and appeared on the Still I Rise album. To speed the process, I’m going to skip translating things like “ain’t” means “is not” or “has not”. If you can’t figure that out, you are far too white.

“Uhh.. dear Mr. President. Whas happenin? I’m writin you because, shit is still real fucked up in my neighborhood. Pretty much the same way, right around the time when you got elected. Ain’t nothin changed. All the promises you made, before you got elected… they ain’t came true.”

Here, Tupac points out that President Clinton, who some called “America’s First Black President”, ran on a campaign promising to help the black community, but now, six years into his presidency, nothing had changed.

“Tell me what to do, these niggaz actin up in the hood. Send mo’ troops, dear Mr. President
(Me and my homies is wonderin what’s goin on.. holla!)”

Tupac points out that he and his brothers in the African American community are being urged to join the military, yet are still living in ghettos surrounded by crime, which he doesn’t think is a fair transaction.

“Why should I lie, when I can dramatize? Niggaz fell victim to my lyrics, now traumatized.
Simply by spittin I’ve been blessed given riches, enemies suspicious cause I’m seldom in the company of bitches.
Plus the concepts I depict, so visual, that you can kiss each and every trick or bitch, inside the shit I kick.
My heaviest verse’ll move a mountain. Casualties in mass amounts, brothers keep countin.
Fuck the friendships, I ride alone. Destination Death Row, finally found a home.
Plus all my homies wanna die, call it euthanasia. Dear Lord, look how sick this ghetto made us.
Sincerely yours I’m a thug, the product of a broken home.
Everybody’s doped up, nigga what you smokin on?
Figure if we high they can train us but then America fucked up and blamed us.
I guess it’s cause we black that we targets. My only fear is God, I spit that hard shit.
In case you don’t know, I let my pump go. I ride for Mutulu like I ride for Geronimo.
Down to die, for everything I represent. Meant every word, in my letter to the President.”

As we get into it, Tupac (named after a Peruvian freedom fighter), says that, while he has been successful in the rap game, his antagonists continue to think poorly of him. His statement that he is rarely associated with bitches, implies that his team is full of hard core people. He points out that he is so good at rapping, that he can move mountains and kill people. Sadly, this has taken a toll on his social life. Thus, he is forced to live alone. He worries that he is destined to be executed, but ironically states that he “finally found a home”.

His friends also expect to die, which is because of how sick their environment is. Coming from a broken home, he and his friends have low expectations and are surrounded by drug use. The latter, he blames on the government for introducing into his locale. Then the government started blaming his peers for getting addicted.

Mutulu is Mutulu Shakur (his stepfather). Mutulu and Geronimo Pratt (Tupac’s Godfather) were human’s rights activists wanted by the FBI. Mutulu was arrested for racketeering, and Geronimo was arrested for kidnapping. It was later discovered that the FBI program involved, was illegal. Back to the song, Tupac is saying that he looked up to these men. He is willing to die for what he thinks is right. Lastly, he points out that he is being very serious.

E.D.I. Amin takes the stage next.
“Oh youse a ball in the White House, I hope you comfortable cause yo I spend my nights out, with the lights out,
under the safety of darkness, amongst the crazed and the heartless and young soul bros, ready to rode a starship.
Launch it, leave a nigga flat for scratch, the godless I gotta get chips, but you can’t understand that.
Wanna ban rap? Stand back, before you get hurt. It’s the only thing makin pay the day besides smoke and work.
On a mission listen more chips my goal and position. First on my decision I realized the same nigga.
Trippin to drastic measures tryin to get stacks of cheddar. Muh’fuckers hate cops, wait it ain’t gettin better.
But you keep, tellin us, that it is while your motherfuckin troops keep killin our kids, dig.
Don’t be surprised if you see us dumpin with nuttin but artillery to free us, motherfucker”

E.D.I. (Whose name is a play on Idi Amin, the President of Uganda and War Lord) talks about how it must be nice for Clinton to spend so much time in the light, while black people are stuck to live in the dark, surrounded by crazy people and gang members who are willing to kill for anything. I think it’s possible he was watching Star Trek while he wrote these, because I’m not sure what the “starship” has to do with anything. Based on the next line, it seems he wants to take a space ship to another planet, because he has no chance on Earth. He then claims that atheists like poker.

Next he argues that while the government might want to prohibit talking super fast to a beat, the rap game is one of the few things that puts food on the table, besides drugs and, you know, having a job. He then goes on to remind us that he likes poker and wants to be the best at it. Or Pringles. Wait. Maybe he meant that atheists like Pringles. He says that he not only wants cheddar Pringles, but stacks of cheddar Pringles. Ooo. Maybe this is a metaphor for addiction, since “once you pop, you can’t stop.”

The people hate the cops because, while the government kept saying that there has been social progress, young black men were continually being shot by law enforcement officers. Luckily, this was 15 years ago, and no longer applies. Oh. Wait.

He states that the reason for the buildup of guns in the ghettos was to combat the police who had their own arsenal that was being used on them.

Kastro (another play on a political leader, in this case Cuban dictator Fidel Castro) takes over.
“Strapped and angry, with no hope and heartbroke. Fightin first my trained brain until it’s not so.
It’s hostile, niggaz lick shots to watch the glocks glow. Cadres of coppers patrol us like we some animals.
And it ain’t no peace, my peace a piece on my streets to people beefin and things, squeakin on they beefs for weeks.
Mr. President, it’s evident, nobody really care for a struggle out the gutter, twenty-two with gray hair.
I was raised to raise hell, frail and my heart stale. So I’ma bring hell to earth until my heart fail.
But y’all play fair, give me and mine, I’ll share. Til y’all show us you care, it’s gon’ be mayhem out here.
Me and these 223’s will freeze the biggest with ease. I’m still a nigga you fear, bring the beast to his knees.
and I’ve been born to represent, for that I’ve been heaven sent. And I meant, every word, in my letter, to the President.”

Kastro starts by saying that his situation has made him desolate. Now in his early 20s, he is starting to show the signs of age from stress. He is forced to remain armed because there is a high likelihood that he will be shot by either a gang or the police who still treat him like a farm animal. He has grown up expecting this and doesn’t think it will change.

If he is going to be forced to live in this environment of hostility and violence, he’s going to fight back by summoning Satan to earth until he develops a heart condition. He posits that he would be able to leave this life behind, if only he was able to have some equality. But until then, he isn’t going to back off and just accept his fate. He is willing to even bring Rosie O’Donnell down. He ends by telling us that he, too, is very serious.

Tupac returns.
“Shit is still fucked up y’all. And y’all wonder when it’s gon’ get better. And it ain’t gon’ get better.”
Heavenly Father may I holla at you briefly? I wanna meet the President, but will he meet me?
He’s scared to look inside the eyes of a Thug Nigga. We tired of bein scapegoats for this capitalistic drug dealin.
How hypocritical is Liberty? That blind bitch ain’t never did shit for me.
My history, full of casket and scars. My own black nation at war, whole family behind bars.
And they wonder why we scarred, thirteen lookin hard. Sister had a baby as an adolescent, where was God?
Somewhere in the middle of my mind is a nigga on the tightrope, screamin let him die.
Can’t lie I’m a thug, drownin in my own blood. Lookin for the reason that my momma’s strung out on drugs.
Down to die, for everything I represent. Meant every word, in my letter to the President.”

Tupac is disappointed that Clinton refuses to sign his autograph. Thus he addresses his deity. This exasperation continues because he thinks that the United States is against him. He feels that the government has been blaming black people for crime for so long, while making profit off of the crime itself. Thus, the government has no reason to fix anything.

Next, he targets the concept of liberty, personified. If justice is supposed to be blind, she sure seems to ignore black people and favor white people. Throughout the history of the country, black people had been forced into slavery and treated as second class citizens. Well, once they became citizens, as prior to that they were only 3/5ths of citizens. All this time of animosity has forced the black community to resort to unfavorable things that has led to gang versus gang, and family versus family, rather than encourage the community to join each other against their common enemy.

Moving on from young black men, Mr. Shakur moves on to young black women, who often get pregnant at young ages, causing him to wonder if a god even exists. He visualizes himself walking a fine line between doing what is right and doing what he must. In the end, he admits that his life will be his death. His own mother is doomed, just like him. Yet, he remains very serious.

Big Syke (named after the political activist… SIKE!)
“Blacks is broke, think it’s a joke that we livin low? Y’all sniffin blow and postin what they hittin fo’?
Tell the secretary it’s necessary we get paid. Look what you made, little kids gettin sprayed.
Day after day, and night after night. Battles and wars to the daylight.
We might change and rearrange if you do somethin. Til then we gonna keep it comin.
Mr. President. Hehe. And I meant every word in my letter to the President.”

Big Syke attacks the job market and those who think that black people are willingly keeping themselves in the ghettos. He can’t do all the work. He needs the government to meet him half way. Perhaps, he argues, if black people were able to get a job for the same wage as their white counterparts, they wouldn’t need to be in gangs or sell drugs. He concurs with his fellow rappers that he is very serious.

Tupac takes a break from rapping to do some spoken word. Which is different from rapping.
“Word motherfuckin life. Fuck this nigga think?
Cuttin taxes, takin off welfare. We ‘sposed to just sit here, go broke and die, starvin?
Motherfuckers crazier than a motherfuckin scout. Nigga this Thug Life, Westside Outlaw Immortalz nigga.
We fin’ to hustle til we come up.”

Tupac vents his frustration that the government keeps taking away basic survival tools, leaving those affected with fewer and fewer options. He worries that the government actually wants them to die. He also says that boyscouts have mental illnesses and that his friends can’t die. Then I think he has a stroke.

“Dear Mr. Clinton, shit.
It’s gettin harder and harder for a motherfucker to make a dollar in these here streets.
I mean shit, I hear you screamin peace. But we can’t find peace till my little niggaz on these streets get a piece.
I know you feel me cause you too near me not to hear me.
So why don’t you help a nigga out? Sayin you cuttin welfare. That got us niggaz on the street, thinkin who in the hell care?
Shit, y’all want us to put down our glocks and our rocks but y’all ain’t ready to give us no motherfuckin dollars.
What happened to our 40 acres and a mule fool? We ain’t stupid. Think you got us lookin to lose.
Tryin to turn all us young niggaz into troops. You want us to fight your war. What the fuck I’m fightin for?
Shit, I ain’t got no love here. I ain’t had a check all year. Taxin, all the blacks and police beatin me in the streets.
Fuck peace.”

After all of this, Tupac decides to start his letter. He implores President Clinton to address the situation, and tries to convince Clinton that they are similar, since they both shared a similar childhood. Either that, or Tupac has broken into the White House and is currently whispering in Clinton’s ear. He reiterates the previously mentioned points about how the government has unfairly limited the options of African Americans. While the government wants more soldiers for the various battles in other countries, there remains a battle in the ghettos, and the government doesn’t seem interested in helping. He doesn’t understand why he should fight for the government if it’s not fighting for him. He offers a counter offer. If the government would give them enough money to live, they would relinquish their weaponry and illicit medications.

He argues that the government had offered land and a mule to freed slaves, but that didn’t happen. Instead of an opportunity to build a life, they were forced to wallow in anguish. This frustration at the situation in which Tupac sees himself, boils over when he claims that a peaceful situation may not be possible.