Hannah Montana (The Heart You Broke At Yale)

This is my third rap, which I just got around to filming earlier this summer. I used a beat I found on Youtube made by Lion and Prime. The inspirations are the poems of Catullus, the Streets’ When You Wasn’t Famous, Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know, and my own experiences. I hope you enjoy it; I’m confident I’ve never met whomever you assume it’s about!

***

I recall that when we all would get in a fight

You’d hiss when pissed that I couldn’t rap or write.

But goading me you now will see is truth in all its might.

I feel like exploding, and I stay awake at night.

So face the facts, my famous friend, and feel their chilling bite

And let these humble lyrics be enough to bring to light

The sad and old forgotten tragicomic fairy tale

Once upon a time… about the heart you broke at Yale!

Lacking mostly in renown, New Haven is a craven town

With name unsung, but here you came,

famous young, and blind with fame.

I’d seen your films now and again

And guessed you messed with girls and men

But knew that no one on TV

Would ever take two looks at me,

A pauper in obscurity.

But in a clubhouse out of sight,

We both danced in a tomb that night.

Once I spied you, gone was choice!

My tongue was tied, I lost my voice.

Deaf and dumb, my head was turning

Thoughts all lost to lust and yearning

Mute and dumb, my body burning

Sweat and tears and danger christened

Both my eyes which burned and glistened

While the crowd of gawkers listened

To your laugh, which forced on me,

Do not be dismissory,

Paralysis and misery…

Symptoms, so the lonely tell us,

Of a broken heart that’s jealous.

Then you went to take a smoke

And I dared make a feeble joke

About that hapless Scottish bloke

Who just puked when he took a toke.

Funny, how I first met you

And that you laughed and teased me too

Acting cool and being flirty,

Brushing skin and talking dirty.

At the end of Tupac’s song

You took a last hit from the bong

You said, you weren’t in town for long,

I read your mind and wasn’t wrong.

I guess you saw some charm in me I couldn’t understand.

I’d never been the type before to have a one night stand.

I had no strategy thought out or any subtle plan.

You wondered at the hunger of my kiss.

Then we began.

I had no money, name, physique, or any self assurance.

But, innocence had its mystique upon this first occurrence.

Perhaps you thought my mind unique

And I could learn from your technique

And temporary solace seek

Though I was just a humble geek

And you a freak who hit your peak

We then lost track of many hours

Blazing suns gave us their powers

Then, I hoped for no more fun

Or wanted more of anyone

Yet still, you said it wasn’t done

So then began our awful run.

And I was one of many men,

And women too now and again.

My God, I wish it ended then.

Captive to some twist of fate

You’d often come to see me late.

Vulgar texts to consummate

Impossible to satiate.

Publicly, you’d play the saint,

But privately, you gave complaint.

Took on others more athletic

Found my jealousy pathetic

Said it was your right to cheat

Proved it like a bitch in heat

When I felt like I would die

You’d scoff at all the tears I’d cry

Knowing that I’d take you back

Fatal as a heart attack

Who’d have thought a Disney star

Would stoop to keying someone’s car

Or blow a brother and his twin

Or overdose on aspirin?

And who’d have thought a PhD

Would put up with such misery.

But all that burns must turn to dust

And these things end as these things must

So finally, I struggled free

Of love for your celebrity

And then at last, you must confess

That I’m the one who called you less

But thinking that this was absurd,

You had to have the final word.

And told me that you hated me,

And never even dated me.

Knowing you was all my luck

And I was just some empty fuck

Then in some paper or another,

There you were right on the cover,

In the arms of your new lover.

What a treat for all your fans!

As for me, I’ll be a man,

Forced to do all that he can

To efface you from his plans

Nor pursue you where you ran.

Jaded, cynical, unnerved,

I got just what I deserved

Should have left you at the curb,

Never crossed your path but swerved

Given all that I observed

But now my honor is preserved

And some justice will be served

With that I have the final word.

Superface (Kiss My Hairy Face, a Hipster Rap)

Here’s my second stab at a music video. Special thanks to my friends Joanna Zheng and Gary Gao for helping me to film this on location in Bushwick, and to Chris Tokita for helping me edit the sound. I shot it on my camera and edited it using Lightworks. The lyrics are below.

***

You might think that you know me,
But at last I’ve turned the tables!
This gold ring in my nostril proves
That I defy your labels.
I’m rocking this wool cap
And a beard that looks like crap
And in case you missed the news
I look fierce in canvass shoes.
Take a look, but not too close,
I don’t wear socks, so they smell gross.

The rims of my glasses are thick and absurd.
I basically look like I’m one giant nerd.
My pea-coat is vintage, my pants super tight,
The shape of my testicles lies in plain sight.
These Civil War mutton chops both look like hell,
This sweater is right out of Saved By the Bell.
Sipping a fro-yo, I play with my yo-yo,
Passing chain restaurants, I tell my friends “hell, no.”
That meal once had feet, be it fish, fowl, or meat.
And gluten free wheat germ is all that I’ll eat.

Unwashed and contentious,
I’m very annoying and pretentious.
But all of you can kiss my hairy face.
I can’t stand your fucking mainstream taste.

I love to use phrases like badass and dude,
I’m grungy and lazy and stuck up and rude.
I live in a basement. I have no emotion.
My love life involves a computer and lotion.
Get off of my case.
We artists need our space.

Listen to pop and I’ll call you a fool.
I only like music before it is cool.
Your shade bounces off me just like an elastic.
Bombastic, sarcastic, and unenthusiastic,
I’m not too gymnastic or very scholastic,
MTV’s classic. I’m being sarcastic.
If you are rich and your parents tote plastic,
Life here in Bushwick is fucking fantastic.
I party and drink and I vomit all night,
Then sipping my latte at Starbucks I write
Pompous haikus about guilt being white.
My mind’s a chariot for the proletariat.
So my scarf is sewn from fur of yak,
Weaved by orphans from Iraq.
And doing my part to promote social war,
I only buy weed from my brothers, the poor.

Clever and sardonic,
My tattoo of Pikachu is ironic.
But all of you can all kiss my hairy face.
I can’t stand your fucking mainstream taste.

When I make my daily calls
To the thrift store at the malls
I read Mao’s Little Red Book in the stalls,
So capitalism can suck on my balls!
Get off of my case.
We artists need our space.

And if you dare to mock me as you pass,
Then I’ll occupy your bourgeois ass.
Down with the man! You better get off me
Before I scald your face with fair trade coffee.

You are just a cliché.
So who really cares what you have to say?
You are just a cliché.
So who really cares what you have to say?

I’m a spoiled brat with artistic pretensions,
I deserve to be the world’s center of attention.
But haters can all kiss my hairy face.
I can’t stand your fucking mainstream taste.

I’ll never conform.
I refuse to reform.
Each day of the week
I’m completely unique.
You’ll never define me.
So give me no lip, sir,
Oh shit. Now I realize
I’m just a hipster.

Better hitch my saddle,
Head off to Seattle…or Portland.