Salt n pepa said that, back in 1988.
At that time music wasn’t faked.
Yet from stealing and sampling there was still no escape.
But the words, poppy as they were, still hold resonance.
Growing up in the ’80s and the ’90s decadence,
I used their melody to calm me and give my soul relevance.
Paying penance in the presence of my peers,
I faced my fears with benevolence despite my hesitance.
And their cries of ‘push it real good’ gave me drive.
I’d rave about how their lyrics kept my dreams alive.
Their catchy hooks gave me motivation at times
when I became complacent. But I stayed patient.
Facing enemies I built the hatred and became brazen.
My soul like a winged raven heading straight for satan.
Righteous indignation emblazoned on my chest for all to see.
‘S’ and ‘P’ shaven onto me, my ID for when you call the police.
For if you think my approach is orthodox, prepare to be outfoxed.
I’ll leave you feeling accosted and lost, broken down beyond cost.
You, like a defeated nation seeking reparation for your failures.
Me? Continuing to push it trying to influence your behaviour.
Cutting round you like a Savile row suit and I’m the tailor.
But in this instance I’m just applying the laws of nature.
Setting on you with a harpoon, you’re Moby Dick and I’m the whaler.
Captain Ahab, dooming my crew to the bottom of the ocean floor.
A ferocious and atrocious end… unless I learn to push it some more.