I really associate this song with a bleary time of my life. Although the song came out in April 2013, I seem to associate it (if my memory serves me correctly) with hazy winter days spent inside and on break from college. It's interesting to listen to it in a time that feels more clear. I think I don't just hear the song, but I also am "hearing" the associated memories and feelings that come with it too--until about 0:52. There is something about the rhythm of the words he's saying with that spaced out drum track and "ah!" sound behind him. I don't know enough music theory to know if this really qualifies as polyrhythm, "the simultaneous use of two or more conflicting rhythms" (thank you P.r. Mahesh Kumar) but to my untrained ears it does. That sharp staccato seems to pierce the nostalgia that surrounds the song for me. Instead of listening to the song and thinking about life all of a sudden I'm saying to myself (usually unsuccessfully) "Trapped in the middle of the map with a little-bitty rock and a little bit of rap // that, with a literary knack and a little shitty Mac and like literally jack."
In terms of composition, the drops, resets, and flip (at about 3:10) make the song really slick for me. The first person narrative about growing up ("mama still washin my clothes") feels very personal. The narrative feels earnest and vulnerable, talking about the reality of gun violence and the feelings of fear, isolation ("They deserted us here"), and trauma ("I hate crowded beaches, I hate the sound of fireworks"). It's a powerful, mournful, song for me, and I found that listening to Coco Butter Kisses (which comes right afterwards) was a real comfort. It's interesting to hear him talk about how the song is about the paranoia that "plagues the city and perpetuates violence." The song is really introspective, and feels like it's trying to explore some interior spaces. The final refrain "I know you're scared, you should ask us if we scared too. If you was there, we would know you care too" feels like it could be many possible voices. The voice of an older chance the rapper to younger children, encouraging people to talk about fear, perhaps as a way of facilitating healing. Perhaps also the voice of a black community to a white community that perpetuates stereotypes of violence and aggression on black bodies and has deserted them. And for the final line, perhaps the voice of those perpetuating the violence, who feel most deserted, and most in need of the reassurance that they are cared for.
Listen here with a pretty incredible live performance here.
