Illmatic In The Morning

This morning I seek refuge in beats and verse and the pretence that I’m somewhere else. I stagger from my house (straight out the fuckin’ dungeons of rap), sprint for the bus (I ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an assassin), sit slumped on my seat (be havin dreams that I’m a gangster – drinkin Moets, holdin Tecs) as I lurch and jerk towards work.

I’m not here. I’m on New York streets, sewin’ up the blocks to sell rocks, winnin’ gunfights with mega cops.

I’m not living with the consequences of a decision I made when I was 18, working the next 6 years for pay dwarfed by that of my peers. I’m livin’ like Capone, with drug scripts sewn, or the legal luxury life, rings flooded with stones, homes.

Escapism is easy on four hours’ sleep. I sit in my bus seat, dead to the world but alive inside. Inhale deep like the words of my breath: I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death.

Then New York State Of Mind finishes, and the next song starts. It features the rousing refrain: Life’s a bitch and then you die.


  1. I remember asking you to get Illmatic when we were in London but you refused. B***h you better recognize!

    Have you heard Serena Maneesh yet?

  2. Well, I’m still not actually that wowed by Illmatic as a whole, just by a few songs. And yes, I realize you’ve got the weight of critical opinion firmly on your side here, but that’s never stopped me from being contrary before. :P

    Re: Serena Maneesh, nope, am woefully out of touch with the past few months’ worth of music. The name is familiar, but in the absence of downloading or purchasing, the sound is not.

  3. I tend to start my days with a bit of banging trance on the way to work. Wakes me up a treat and gets me bouncy enough to be able to jump straight into a busy pharmacy.

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