[HIP HOP] Post Malone- White Iverson (The Knocks Bootleg) [FREE DOWNLOAD]
When I started ballin’ I was young
You gon’ think about me when I’m gone
I need that money like the ring I never won, I won
Big fan of the ego. I am. Always am. No, really. You got it, flaunt it. You don’t got it, shout out swag–pretend–until you do. Rip open space and time. Paint a wide berth on the sidewalk. Fill the empty space, color the world with a galactic sized image of you. Forced humility is such a privileged fucking world. What people who have everything demand. When they scowl, when they howl. Every time those who don’t have it start to learn to fly. Even if they’re just growing wings and beating against the edges of their skull. To beat back the boundaries. Grow their fucking world.
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Big egos are amazing. They’re why I love hip-hop. Hip hop’s all about strutting in the street. slinking to your bedroom. kicking it in the confines of a club. And roaring every bit of yourself out over every inch of air. Reclaim space, put yourself in space. Breathe me, motherfuckers. Yeah, yeah, there is something to be said about caring. empathy. all that humanity jazz. Hip hop cares about that shit, too. But more than any other genre, hip hop is a case study in ego. What are my limits? What walls can I punch through? What blockades do I negotiate with baited, whispered breath? What worlds can I teleport the life in my eyes to by sheer force of will? It’s how I look at a track like Post Malone’s “White Iverson”.
Commas, commas in my head, man
Slumped over like a dead man
You say it’s a song about shoes. I say it’s an anthem of insecurity–particularly the way The Knocks have masterfully remixed it. Sure, it’s drenched in capitalism. But that’s just motifs, metaphors for fear of my utter impermanence in the world. I can fade. I can ghost out this party. Your life, my mind–permanetely. And so easy like. So fuck that noise. Rock the physical world with some rock, ice. Talk of rock, ice. Energize life with coca. Move your physicality, your warrior feet, anxious toes–under the gudiing hand of The Knocks–in your White Iversons. And then wait. Just goddamn wait. For the universe to recognize the lion force you are.