This is a poem I wrote to convince y’all to watch “The Get Down”.
There is no way to write this down
In the italian language.
So I try to make it work, anyway
It quite seems garbage.
But ain’t no shit. I swear to you.
Even if you don’t believe in me.
The matter is serious, shades of blue
The most serious way it could ever be.
I am talking about the Get Down
The latest Netflix’s original show
which smarter than Charlie Brown.
And believe me, bro. It was a dope.
I saw it last day. I started at dawn.
It was a Saturday and all day i just went off
I was only about those fucking bros.
And yes, I’ll say it again. It was dope.
I liked it. I loved it. It makes me cry, though.
It made me think and wonder so
About life, pain, love and gain
About mine, hip hop, niggas shot
Even ‘bout the Bronx.
Where the revolution started:
the South one. The Thoughest one.
By fire, drugs and bad police men
Where you might had been shot in the head.
Here you find blood or double crap.
The show well explains.
Gives us chance to taste
Behind a screen as we use to do. It’our fate.
To love things we’ll never know. Not the hate.
So you should wonder, mate.
Here, odds we won’t undestand.
Confidence you cannot pretend.
Too far away from us and from our mind too.
At least there is something we can do.
Sit you ass down, get your skin cold.
Be brave. Be bold.
Press play and watch the episode one.
It’s already famous abroad
It will make you know
How the fucking hip hop
generated itsself in the bronx.
Damming tears and crushing souls.
Directed by Baz Lurhman. You nailed it, bro.
The two Smiths, which got that swag
Shaolin Fantastic and The Granmaster Flash.
They will lead you in the greatest tale
About summer of a great year. And let me say
In the greatest city. New York. South Bronx.
Brighter than that damn heaven.
“Boom then crash, the shattering of glass
I dive to the floor, busting my ass
The hell was that
Was all that I say
Then I see the pool of blood
Then I see my mom she’s dead
No emotion in the commotion
I wasn’t even sad, even when I learned the bullet was meant for my dad
Vietnam made pops crazy he was already half-dead
So why couldn’t that’d be him that got shot in the head?
All the news that fits the print
Momma’s death went unreported not a whiff or word or hint
They don’t care about us niggers is how my pops explained it
But I didn’t know I was a nigger till my dad proclaimed it
Six months later my pops is dead too
Drug-related shots fired his skin turned cold blue
On the news that night the President’s wife got a new hair-do
The news guy said “I like it how about you?”
No word about my pops in the Post or on CBS, why was that you ask?
Take a fucking guess
And yeah why is that, that’s what politicians should be asking
But who got time for questions when you all skiing up on Aspen?
Broads get gunshots to the head and all y’all serving us is Asprin
My momma so lovely she’d have made your head spin
Level the playing field and y’all will see who’ll really win
And yeah I got anger
But I don’t let it take me down, my momma taught me better
And she holds me up when I fall down
Rest in peace moms, don’t worry about your son
Some day I’ll make you proud because yeah I am the one”
Ezekiel Figuero – The Get Down.