Song Meaning

The opening lines immediately set a scene of a performance in a less-than-ideal neighborhood, with a wry acknowledgment of the audience's presence. The narrator, Billy Woods, frames the performance as a transaction, asking the crowd to "come with some flights" or "blunts, woods, papers, kites," establishing a transactional and slightly weary tone from the outset. He contrasts the perceived "blackness" of rap with the broad appeal of figures like Wesley Snipes and Elvis Presley, hinting at a complex relationship between race, entertainment, and audience reception. The lyrics then pivot to a historical evocation of vaudeville and busking, painting a picture of a performer working for meager earnings, "robbing these / Hay seeds, and whistling at they hoes," and relying on the audience to "throw something in his feathered hat." The core tension lies in the performer's precarious position and the implicit power dynamics between artist and audience, particularly across racial lines. The narrator observes, "But niggas if throw a bottle, it's coming right back," starkly illustrating the risk involved for Black performers compared to the implied safety of white performers. This highlights a vulnerability and a need for the artist to gauge the crowd's mood and potential for hostility, suggesting that acceptance is conditional and potentially volatile. The mention of promoters as "more snake the cobras" further underscores a sense of being exploited within the industry. Priviledge's verse continues this theme of artistic identity and struggle, referencing "little Mingus" and a transformation into "mister pork pie hat." The lyrics weave a narrative of navigating a "money jungle" where change is "inevitable," drawing parallels to sports failures with "throwing interceptions" and needing to "put these dogs down." The imagery of a "room's collapsing" and only lighting "flickers" suggests a desperate attempt to illuminate a bleak reality or a failing situation. The verse concludes with a return to the street-level perspective, with the "black youth calling himself the capital P," reinforcing the idea of artistic persona as a shield or a statement in an urban environment. What makes these lyrics resonate is their unflinching portrayal of the performer's hustle and the societal pressures that shape it. The language is gritty and direct, avoiding romanticization and instead focusing on the transactional nature of performance and the underlying anxieties. The contrast between the performer's efforts and the audience's potential reactions, as well as the internal struggles depicted in the second verse, creates a raw and authentic depiction of artistic survival. The recurring motif of performance, from the stage to the streets, underscores a persistent need to be seen and heard, even in challenging circumstances.

Super Chron Flight Brothers - Rap

Nigger Pennies

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[Verse 1: Billy Woods] Looks like we got a good crowd tonight And you know this isn't the best neighborhood Give a hand to the whites Sound man put me up to the mic Now first thing's first I hope y'all came with some flights Blunts, woods, papers, kites Cause right about now you Probably want to find a light Get you a drink Sound man put me up in the mic Making me tell you twice, for real Make me forget my shit So yeah, spark a spliff Put down them wings Cause this brother coming on And darn to do the damn thing Rap be black like Snipes Wesley But even the biggest crackers Love him like Presley That old vaudeville shit, I'm talking 'bout Busking every subway in New York Every greyhound station down south I'm talking thirty-three, robbing these Hay seeds, and whistling at they hoes In the street, so please dig deep Let's throw something in his feathered hat But niggas if throw a bottle, it's coming right back 'Less you rolling bigger in which case We leave right out the back Probably bump into the promoter Knowing how they do More snake the cobras Swing signs like Babe Ruth late eighties But we're jolly good fellas Fuck you, pay me, anyway Enough of my old rigmarole Let me get out here while the night's Young and the drinks are cold Ladies and gentlemen, the capital P And if you like what you see We'll be in D.C. next week, Elk's Lounge [Verse 2: Priviledge] They used to call me little Mingus When I plucked the bass strings Now it's mister pork pie hat in a date dream Living out the fables of Fabius understate things Baby doll went from the bees knees to a ragamuffin Bad closed door that bear [?] Razz him up something terrible that's the has what Last one, fast up, I am spinning on the forty-five blasting Back gutter speak easily, speaking frequently, pass on the twenty ounce Tall boy cans, favorite rapper Jerry Thomas style Manhattan On the rocks in the summer time, up in the winter Club level Roxy, let's go Six-er's, whole block levitates Plot's all fixtures, mitigating factors aside Priviledge is off the Richters it's the Illadephiatic Kick and I ain't get a witness, watch him stay Hustling through that money jungle, it changes one Changes two or inevitable, just ask number seven Throwing interceptions for the squad out in Leatherwood Try putting these dogs down when plays don't work Leave 'em hog tied in a hole, down face first Room's collapsing, I only light the flickers To illuminate a stat sheet, eddy short next Saturday With a new scheme reports lay sport channel Forward news team, back to you Ron Burgundy Certainly, thanks for the update champ kind We all agree another wasted urban life Anyway, next segment, man on the streets Black youth calling himself the capital P Took the headphones off, what's good that's me Blasting through their earbuds, Mingus, pre- [?] My only reply to the questions asked [?] for real, the streets

Credits

Writers: Priviledge
billy woods
Willie Green

Nigger Pennies

Nigger Pennies

Lyrics

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Credits