A.D. Carson - 8 - Internal Contradiction [The Showdown] [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Huey P. Newton: “One of my principles is that contradiction is a ruling principle of the universe, and everything—and phenomena, whether it’s the physical world, or the biologic world, or the social world, has its internal contradiction that gives motion to things—that internal strain. And much of the time that we homo sapiens don’t realize that no matter what sort of conditions we establish, no matter what government we establish, at this point, there also will be that internal contradiction that will have to be resolved, and resolved in a rational, just way. And, of course that leads us to somewhat—it’s very vague on how to deal with it. And many times we claim actions are revolutionary, when really they’re not.”]

[Verse 1: A.D. Carson]
They want rap, not a tap dance minstrel show
So they can’t help but wanna follow where my pencil go
I’m like the ghost of Wu Tang’s Bobby Digital’s analog catalog
Trapped inside your stereo

Not mercurial, but open to change
Came during the drought when you was hoping for rain
Praying to HOV. I was opening lanes
On the right side, solo, joking and playing. It’s like

‘Beat Street’ meets Oscar The Grouch—
Traditions that used to exist, got argued about
And took over—consumerism hollowed ‘em out
Now everybody’s scratching heads, like “What’s the problem about?”

If you can’t see the boogey man but you spooked
And you can tell a lot about a tree from the roots
Then it don’t really matter what you do to the fruit
‘cause you ain’t eatin’ what you thinkin’ is like venom to you

I represent niggas that been in the booth—
Spittin’ truth, so our peers call us venerable
Ladies get disrespected, and dinners are few
So they all *bear a tone* like a *ten or a two,*

But be careful who you mention it to
‘cause I got sisters, a mother, and living is proof
That they’re queens, no borough, and itching to prove
That I’ll put you Down Under like a didgeridoo.

Murder metaphor, red caped matador
Niggas kill niggas every day, why battle for a title
‘cause if you look like me, you’re my rival
But mix it with some ignorance, and you can be my idol

I’m ‘bout to remix 'America the Beautiful'
To ‘The Takeover’ beat, I’m sure it’ll be suitable
Write three rhymes, solidify me undisputable
Start a revolution, have ‘em play it at my funeral

And print my name on they t-shirts, black, solid with
Prophecies spoken by Socrates with politics
That’s paradoxical—on a beach somewhere tropical
Sippin’ daiquiris with 2Pac, Scott LaRock and Obama
*Solemn*—alaikum is the statement
Peace to the people, pray you never be complacent
And never strive for parallel if you were born adjacent
Simple statement: I’m saying always strive for greatness

Yes, yes

[Reporter: “Are you not, perhaps, afraid of what might happen to you as a result of making these revelations?”

[Malcolm X: “Oh, yes. I probably am a dead man already.”

“No. I don’t worry. I tell you, I’m a man who believed that I died twenty years ago. And I live like a man who is dead already. I have no fear whatsoever of anybody or anything.”]