Can the Sub_Bass Speak? - Algiers

Niggas don’t know how to act

What is this?

This ain’t hip-hop

This ain’t punk rock

You ain’t punk rock

You ain’t hip-hop

What is this?

What style of music do you play?

What kind of music do you play?

What do you call that music?

What genre is this?

How do you mix all these genres together?

Why do you mix all these genres together?

How do you do that?

Yeah, yeah, I see, it’s kinda like gospel-punk

Soul-punk, soul-rock, doom-soul

What is this fusion?

Man, it’s more like confusion

I like the punk but I don’t like the soul

I like the soul but I don’t really like the punk

It’s soulful, but why do you have to make it ugly?

Oh, you don’t even know what your sound is

Nah nigga, you don’t know how to act

All these niggas don’t know how to act

Where you from?

Nah, where you really from?

No, where you really from in Africa?

You look like your ancestors might have come from Mali

You know, I spent a summer there once and you look like them

Nah, that’s not your real voice, is it?

Is that your real voice?

Why do you talk like that?

And you don’t really, you don’t really dress like that, do you?

Nah, you, you don’t really talk like a black guy

I mean, you’re black but you ain’t really black

You don’t really act black, nigga

Yeah, you’re more a negro than a nigga

Yeah, and you’re pretty cool for a nigga but you ain’t really a nigga

You know what I’m sayin'?

You know that Chris Rock sketch where he says

That there’s a difference between black people and niggas?

Yeah, why, why can’t I say it?

Why are you allowed to say it but we can’t say it?

Nah, fucking nigga, you don’t really know how to act

All you niggas don’t really know how to act

How does it feel to be a black man making white music?

Uh, a middle aged black man observing young white people

Shout the n-word to rap songs

A 35 year old black man observing young white people

Shout the n-word to rap songs

They’re bombastic but to the point of kitsch

Even though the issues at hand are a matter of life and death

Uh, never mentioning the name

Of victims of racially motivated violence

The effect is weirdly impersonal, so over the top

It’s political melodrama

Fuck your experience, nigga

Uh, you ain’t from the hood

You ain’t got gold in your mouth

Nigga, you ain’t never been in jail

You’re too old and too inauthentic

Fuck young, gifted, and black, nigga

You don’t know how to act

All you niggas don’t know how to act

I love what you do but I wish you would just get off

Of the identity politics and start talking about structural politics

You know who you remind me of?

You remind me of TV on the Radio

You remind me of Fishbone

You remind me of Gary Clark Jr

You remind me of Bad Brains

You remind me of Living Colour

You remind me of Lenny Kravitz

You know who you look like?

You look like Laurence Fishburne

You look like Usher

You look like Forest Whitaker

You look like Paul George

You look like Denzel Washington

You look like that cat from 24

What?

I’m just trying to be nice

Fuck you, nigga

All you niggas don’t know how to act

All you niggas don’t know how to act

Oh, you know I love black girls

I fucked a black girl once, you know

I got black friends, too

You know, one of my best friends was a nigga when I was growing up

And we used to play basketball together

And he could jump and run so fast 'cause he had an extra muscle

Did you know that?

Y’all got an extra muscle in your leg

You got it from when you was runnin' from the slave masters

Oh, but you niggas still don’t know how to act

All you niggas don’t know how to act

You know what black music is, right?

Yeah, I love old school hip-hop

You know, does, you know, does it bother you

When white people dance to your music at shows?

Did you used to be a preacher?

Oh, you’re from Atlanta, I love trap music

That’s the home of trap music

You know what that is, right?

Oh, but you know Bob Dylan created rap

Oh, you know Cee-Lo Green?

Oh, yo, you niggas don’t know how to act

A Love Supreme, that got 10 out of 10

You know, Michael Jackson’s Thriller got Best New Nigga

But you still don’t know how to act

All you niggas don’t really know how to act

«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing

They give him drank and take away the water

«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing

They tattoo his face with quaint obscenities

«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing

They hack off his tongue ceremoniously

With all institutional pomp and circumstance

«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing

They tie him to be quartered to the four major pillars of validation

«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing

They decorate him in gold

«Get back to where you once belonged,» they sing

Exhausted in the briers, he sighs a resigned contortion

They seize it at birth and bottle it for voyeuristic observation

And anthropological instruction

Then put it on display in natural history museums

Pornographic textbooks, designer drag window displays

And conspiracy websites

Dance like a monkey

Chatter like an ape

Put on the jacket and the full face

Everyone will applaud

They clangor on this way

Until he hits the ground

Then they finally give the thumbs down