untitled post ii

Once upon a time, not long ago/
when people thought street wear clothes was dope/
SoHo's the spot where the freshness stood/
Now look the culture's no longer good/
I"m hear to tell ya'll that the scene is dead/
A poser came to me, and this is what he said/
"Make t-shirts, just to get some cash/
call it a clothing line, even though it's trash"/
He made the shirts, got a little cheese/
Now everybody does it like they gotta disease/
I saw another and another t-shirts with the colors/
Couldn't take it, so I went undercover/
I went to this poser asked him 'bout fashion/
He laughed, "like, I only do shirts with the graphics"/
"So what about jeans and hats"/
The dude got offended like he wanted to scrap/
So homey looked at me like, "Why'd you diss me?"/
Then I told the poser, "My name's Mickey"/
He heard Rockstars, so he starts to figure/
"Mickey's tryna be the t-shirt killer"/
So he, cold dashed, and ran around the block/
but I followed him 'til he went into a spot/
Ran through his house, almost bumped his sister/
Tripped over boxes of shirts he fixed up/
Looked around saw a computer station/
Photoshop was open, I couldn't take it/
so, I broke the screen and I made a mess/
Set fire to the shirts, I was feelin' posessed/
Then I burned up the carpet/
Came out walkin'/
Saw him run into his neighbor's apartment/
Ran through the door, just to settle the score/
I'm in his living room, and guess who I saw/
Dave, his partner chillin' on the floor/
with screen print images from '94/
"There go Mickey, hurry up run"/
He put on his black invisible Air Ones/
They ran outside, shirts on they shoulders/
Hopped into Dave's truck, a Silver Rover/
Sped up the block doing 93/
Crashed into a tree outside of Stussy/
Escaped alive, but the trucked was battered/
All for the shirts, the shits so tragic/
Nothin' but pics of Spike Lee, and Magic/
B-Ball players, and other dead rappers/
Almost had em trapped/
so this is what I said/
"Chill out with the shirts, cuz streetwear's dead"/
Deep down they knew they were wrong/
But they wanted to be down, so they ran on/
Finally they stopped cuz they were surrounded/
by trendsetters that felt they needed to get pounded/
They dropped the shirts, told em it was corny/
and this is the way I have to end this story/
They were both nineteen/
With a fashion dream/
but you don't have a clothing line with just tees/
This ain't funny so don't you dear laugh/
Just another brand that's on the wrong path/
Basically, T-shirt lines are trash/
Goodnight/


Lyrical Breakdown

...my homeboy came up to me yesterday askin' for some bread. He wanted me to invest in his venture. He supposedly is starting a clothing line. I gave it to him as a friend, but not because I believe in his project. I wish him the best of luck, but whatever...if he shows me somethin' crazy I'll put it up. But I seriously doubt it...I don't want to play him or whatever, but I can see how he dresses now, and know that none of his fabrics will be touch my skin...I'm jus' sayin'...

Salut
Fly Ty