Snob

SNOB Little Sammy was a kid on a council estate His dad listened to the skids, the slits and the slates So Sammy listened too, he loved the passion in it He loved the feeling in his spine with every snare hit One day his dad bought the Sunday rag Came with a CD of Mozart and a TV mag The TV was broke so he put the CD on and listened And his eyes lit up and his smile, it glistened He had never known that music could have so many layers Different emotions placed upon different parts and players Each week he waited for the next free CD To put on his headphones and get lost completely So he saved all his money, one goal in mind To go down to a performance and see this live It took eight long months to raise these funds But the excitement was immense when that day did come With his pockets full of coins he got the bus to the city He watched the view become less shitty and gritty Even though he was alone in this big dark place Nothing could remove the smile from his face When he arrived, everyone was in suits Sammy stood there in tatty jeans and boots He slammed his coins on the counter "one ticket please" But the guy turned up his nose like he was gonna sneeze He looked away and served the next couple suited and booted But Sammy stood his ground and asked again less muted They laughed and someone sneered "Get out of here pikey Appreciation on your level seems less than likely" Tears built up in little Sammy's eyes It seemed his place in society he could not hide His head dropped for a minute but then his head was held He looked them in the eyes as he screamed and yelled He said… Stop being a snob with ya music It's made to be heard man, anyone can use it Ya get so damn precious sometimes It's just rhythms and rhymes and melodies in time There was this other kid, she lived on the outskirts of Leicester Her friends called her Frankie, her parents Francesca I gotta admit she was kind of ignorant But the kind you expect of wealth and affluence No offence! She just lived in a different world With different priorities, a real status girl Her musical taste were an NME playlist And anything recommended by the rich and famous Now one day she was buying tunes online She'd just got into Beck five years out of time When she went to download Midnight Vultures She got confused and grabbed Midnight Marauders The only hip hop she knew was when that boy Kanye Got featured in her mag doing a track with Coldplay But as she reached to turn it off Q-Tip started to speak And in that split second somehow he connected deep She sat up, 'til god knows what time Hunting for more beats, breaks and rhymes She could barely believe that music so far from her role Could resonate and connect to the root of her soul She woke late the next day and hit the record store She'd found a lot of dope tracks but she wanted more She walked in and went straight to the guy at the desk She said, "I'm loving De La Soul and a Tribe Called Quest I've heard good things about Rakim and KRS So I'm looking for advice on what's the best of the best" The guys looked at each other, raised an eyebrow and smiled And they looked back at her like a little lost child Then they laughed "little posh girl getting her ghetto on? Go back to daddy little girl this ain't where you belong" She felt demoralized and stupid and all alone And then she screamed in their faces with a visceral tone She said… Stop being a snob with ya music It's made to be heard man, anyone can use it Ya get so damn precious sometimes It's just rhythms and rhymes and melodies in time