We’re Famous – Song and Lyrics by Aesop Rock

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Written by: JEFFREY B. ATKINS, ROBERT S. KELLY, IRVING DOMINGO LORENZO, KENDRED T. SMITH, JEFFREY ATKINS, KENDRED T SMITH, JEFFREY ATKINS (JA RULE)

Duration: 6:22

Discover the poetic beauty in ‘We’re Famous’ by Aesop Rock. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Aesop Rock or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.

I brought that genuine shit in ’96
Before you knew the underground or independent existed
I watched the whole scene straight jump on the dick
After stepping to KCR lit and flexing my shit

No gun talk, no gimmicks, just rounds of raw-dogging
Dirty dusty intelligent wit and word murdering
A hardcore poetic informed without burglary
Potent and shook the shit out of rappers who just learned of me

Everytime I prescribe a new pill, revolution
Quickly defined the standard for indie rap distribution
Arrogant unafraid shit developed riding a train thinking of brain fucks
“Bad Touch Example” that soon became bucks

Had everybody sprung wondering where I came from
Screaming out “Independent’s fucked up” in the same tongue
With an indelible squad of design monsters
Innovating the styles that made biters look like imposters

So we scripted an album and signed to Rawkus
Selling a hundred thousand without a radio chart hit
Imposterous son is taking the world hostage
Classic hip-hop bombage dirty with style progress

Now I’ve come from the ’80s juvenile Brooklyn
Where cats was like: “Gimme that subway pass, kid. Good lookin.”
Now someone else is taking a ride with what’s mine
So I had to develop styles with a death device cooked in

So when I battled in basements I had eight sentences
Waiting way before the four you had laced in
And I was taught to wait patient (Why?)
Only faggots make shit up just to get famous

So when I finally blew up I remained sick
Earning respect in ghettos and ‘burbs for word placement
Back when the independent scene remained faceless
We were the only crew who promised your ass we’d take it

Mold it, shape it, living outside the matrix
Hold it, make it, more than miniature major labels
Hold it sacred, living it for the culture
Told ya plainly, protected it from the vultures

That’s why I always get respect from true soldiers
While half of the critics claim it every year: “Hip hop’s over.”
F*CK YOU, hip hop just started
It’s funny how the most nostalgic cats are the ones who were never part of it

But true veterans’ll give dap to those who started it
Then humbly move the f*ck on and come with that new retarded shit
New slang, new thought, new sound
Who’s heart you thought you had?

You clown, you don’t, you drown
I won’t dumb it down, I’m dumbing now for these rounds
I’m a live mothefucker plus I’m gunning for clowns
You’re mine motherfucker, don’t be coming for pounds

So you can break out of that invisible box, you’re not down
My favorite ones are the ones who started that young rap about
Comic books, spaceships, and Obi-Quan one
And even though they were soft they had fun

But they couldn’t break out the frame of the town they came from
Some of these faggots used to send me their demos
I’m keeping their puppy styles in the Company Flow kennels
But since they had no identity from the start

They started to resent the scene when they couldn’t become a part
They’ve been failing for years and call themselves Vets, that’s bold
Motherfucker, you’re not a Vet you’re just old
I’ll slap the shit out of you to continue my nerve racket

Making this money fist over fist, f*ck what you heard
Jukie cats talk about boom bap and golden ages
Patting themselves on the back for making that new outdated shit
I’ve been putting out vinyl since ’93 and never looked back once

And ya’ll trying to chase me
You don’t innovate because you can’t innovate
It’s not a choice despite what you might tell your boys
Keep your identity crisis under the table

I always knew who I was and I’ll always be more famous

Check it
For the best in the vendor biz
1-800-Lazerface
Leave the last CE-Offer crabs and buy them Hatorade

Dig it, daddy dug his own tunnel under the gutters where the numbers bleed
Hunters froze up and exposed Rapunzel weeds
Tugboat, tug up through that brutal dirt first
The fuedals fuming oodles, it was right under your poodle skirt

Welcome to Bazooka Works, halogen halo eyesore
The revolution will not be apologized for
Warbucks exlex megaphone on the fashion piggy pageant
While my dick’s raw-dogging a style magnet

Fraggle rock your four figure watch
I clock ninety-nine cent wristbands
And still know the time when you record flops
Now this is on a sick with it factor

Exhibit A, E, F, Genesis of the klepto reactor
Want to burgle the buzz over definitive cash
After a life of labor camps starts paying innovaters back
Baby, you ain’t felt the collective? (Coooool)

Stop running bases with little bears under the wing of punchdrunk butter makers
That engine sputters while the hound dogs wire cutter mechnical rabbit
Bantam weight puppies ain’t rabid enough to snatch him
Pockmark ninety Moses approach with a golden focal point

Come soak in it, resume sturdy composer soldier bliss
Wrong name by a molar can often expose your phobias
Watch a cobra grow hands to hold his own tongue when he notices
All city legity critter, bark with me

All filthy documents, cats piss on their kittie litter moccasins
Welcome to mi casa, Monsters Inc, dropping bangers out the rocket ships
Your own private apocalypse

Honor it

For f*ck’s sake

Original

Wild fly
You want to read the nile?
I twitch easy reader

Father it

I will, dog

Original

Wide open with banged out cutlery from a slang mouth teacher
And money is an ugly god we all fall for
I got land mammal, cannibal, natural evolving squackbox
That means when I wake up and decide to comprise the new shit
It’s not some watered down version of what my favorite crews did
Puff the magic komodo bitch
Rappers stuffed komonos and shark fame at a perfect working unit
Look, I’m done
Be-boy, feed that to the needy
Shut your liquor hole, f*ck you in 3D
Easy