by Jay-Z
“There is video content at this location that is not currently supported for your eReading device. The caption for this content is displayed below.”
Moment of Clarity. (2:27)
(Wooo) (Yeah) / (Turn the music up turn the lights down I’m in my zone) / [Chorus] / Thank God for granting me this moment of clarity1 / This moment of honesty / The world’ll feel my truths / Through my Hard Knock Life time / My Gift and the Curse / I gave you volume after volume2 of my work / So you can feel my truths / I built the Dynasty by being one of the realest niggas out / Way beyond a Reasonable Doubt / (You all can’t fill my shoes) / From my Blueprint beginnings / To that Black Album ending / Listen close you hear what I’m about / Nigga feel my truths / When Pop died / Didn’t cry / Didn’t know him that well3 / Between him doing heroin / And me doing crack sales / With that in the egg shell / Standing at the tabernacle / Rather the church / Pretending to be hurt / Wouldn’t work / So a smirk was all on my face / Like damn that man’s face was just like my face4 / So Pop I forgive you / For all the shit that I live through / It wasn’t all your fault5 / Homie you got caught / And to the same game I fought / That Uncle Ray lost6 / My big brothers and so many others I saw / I’m just glad we got to see each other / Talk and re-meet each other7/ Save a place in Heaven / till the next time we meet forever / [Chorus] / The music business hate me / ’cause the industry ain’t make me8 / Hustlers and boosters embrace me / And the music I be making / I dumb down for my audience / And double my dollars / They criticize me for it / Yet they all yell “Holla”9 / If skills sold / Truth be told / I’d probably be / Lyrically / Talib Kweli10 / Truthfully / I wanna rhyme like Common Sense / (But I did five mil) / I ain’t been rhyming like Common since11 / When your sense got that much in common / And you been hustling since / Your inception / Fuck perception / Go with what makes sense / Since12 / I know what I’m up against / We as rappers must decide what’s most important13 / And I can’t help the poor if I’m one of them / So I got rich and gave back / To me that’s the win-win / So next time you see the homie and his rims spin / Just know my mind is working just like them / (The rims that is) [Chorus] My homie Sigel’s on a tier / Where no tears14 should fall / ’cause he was on the block where no squares get off / See in my inner circle all we do is ball / Till we all got triangles on our wall15 / He ain’t just rappin for the platinum16 / Y’all record / I recall / ’cause I really been there before / Four scores and seven years ago17 / Prepared to flow / Prepare for war / I shall fear no man / You don’t hear me though / These words ain’t just paired to go / In one ear out the other ear / NO / YO / My balls and my word is all I have / What you gonna do to me? / Nigga scars’ll scab / What you gonna box me homie? / I can dodge and jab / Three shots couldn’t touch me18 / Thank God for that / I’m strong enough to carry Biggie Smalls on my back19 / And the whole BK nigga holla back
When I was a kid my family loved sports. I played baseball with a Little League squad out in Brooklyn. My big brother Eric played basketball in junior and summer leagues and was a straight star. When we first moved to Marcy my father set up a little basketball hoop in our apartment—and we would all sweat it out right there in the living room like it was Madison Square Garden.
But we never could fully dedicate ourselves to becoming true athletes. Life intervened. I hit the streets. But I still loved sports. Playing them, watching them. I wasn’t one of those cats who was too cool to lose his shit over a game. I cared.
There’s always been a connection between sports and the streets. When Biggie rapped in “Things Done Changed” that either you slangin’ crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot, he was talking about the two paths out that most young black men think are open to them. The irony is that if you’re “slangin’ crack rock” you’ll probably end up in jail, and if you got a “wicked jump shot,” you still won’t make it to the NBA unless you’re extremely lucky, like win-the-lottery lucky.
But even if dreams of the NBA are one of the hoaxes played on young black boys, I also believe that there’s a lot to be learned from elite athletes. Sports are one of the great metaphors for life, and watching athletes perform is like watching different ideas about life playing themselves out. Athletes aren’t just fascinating for their physical skills, but for what their performances tell us about human potential and character.
I AM THE MIKE JORDAN OF RECORDING
I know I’m not alone when I say this, but I absolutely love Michael Jordan. Kobe is impressive for his dedication to the game, and has an outside chance to eclipse Jordan someday, and I think LeBron is the best of his generation, but as of now Jordan’s inarguably the greatest player to ever touch a basketball. What made his game magical is the way it spoke to deeper shit than just wins and losses. His career was a perfectly composed story about will. To see him come out of retirement, after his father was buried, to come back and win championships, there was nothing better in the world. In 1998, when the Bulls were down by three in Game Six of the Finals with seconds left, and Jordan scored, stole the ball from Karl Malone, came down, crossed over Bryon Russell, and hit the winning shot at the buzzer—well, I could have laid down and died after that game. It was perfect.
The first time I met Jordan was at St. John’s University, where he was giving the keynote address at their graduation one year. We talked briefly, but didn’t really chop it up. A couple of months later, in Chicago, I went to his restaurant at his invitation to have dinner with him. I had Ty-Ty and my friend Juan with me and I told Jordan that if I was going to sit and break bread with him, I’d have to be able to ask him anything. I meant anything.
It was so perfect that I had Juan with me because he’s a die-hard Knicks fan, and as much as he respected Jordan, he hated the way Jordan personally sat the Knicks down every year in the Eastern Conference play offs. Juan is a real sports fan; he’d be sick for a week, I’m talking depressed—he wouldn’t leave the house—after his team lost. That night he had to sit there and dine with his nemesis. Jordan told Juan the story of how he almost came to the Knicks. He said he was a second away from closing the deal, he was packing his bags to come to New York, when Jerry Krauss called and matched the Knicks’ offer at the last minute. Juan looked like he was going to cry.
I asked Jordan who was the hardest nigga that ever guarded him; he told me Joe Dumars. I found out how much Jordan loves Hakeem Olajuwon; he pointed out that he was a leader in steals, which is rare in the center position. I asked him to name his five favorite centers, the best games he ever played, which championship meant the most to him. I got to be an unabashed fan. It was an absolute dream conversation for me.
The thing that distinguished Jordan wasn’t just his talent, but his discipline, his laser-like commitment to excellence. That’s something I always respect, especially in people who have great natural talents already. Making music requires a lot of that same discipline and commitment. It’s true that I’m able to sometimes come up with songs in a matter of minutes after hearing a track, but that’s a skill that I’ve honed over hundreds of hours of practice and work since I was nine. My earliest mentors in rap taught me that making music is work, whether it was Jaz locking himself in a room working on different flows or Big Daddy Kane taking the time to meticulously put together a stage show. There’s unquestionably magic involved in great music, songwriting, and performances—like those nights when a star athlete is totally in the zone and can’t miss. But there’s also work. Without the work, the magic won’t come. There are a hundred Harold Miners (no disrespect) for every Michael Jordan.
I WORK GODDAMN HARD
For instance, tours are the most lucrative aspect of a recording artist’s career; you have a lot more control and fewer people are in your pockets as compared to album sales. It can also be stressful beyond belief. Every night you’re in a different city, every crowd brings a different vibe, every show is subtly different—but at the same time, you have to hit the same marks night after night, find a new way to get your own energy up when you’re performing th
e same song you did the night before. It becomes less about your innate charisma and talent—although that’s still required—and more about being able to meet the mental and physical challenge of it. A tour requires stamina, willpower, and the ability to self-motivate, to hype yourself into game mode night after night. When you’re on tours like the ones I’ve done over the last decade, you’re like a professional athlete, except that night after night you’re the only one with the bat.
When it comes to signing up new talent, that’s what I’m looking for—not just someone who has skill, but someone built for this life. Someone who has the work ethic, the drive. The gift that Jordan had wasn’t just that he was willing to do the work, but he loved doing it, because he could feel himself getting stronger, ready for anything. He left the game and came back and worked just as hard as he did when he started. He came into the game as Rookie of the Year, and he finished off the last playoff game of his career with a shot that won the Bulls their sixth championship.
That’s the kind of consistency that you can get only by adding deadserious discipline to whatever talent you have.
BREATHE EASY (LYRICAL EXERCISE)
[talking] / So I had to memorize these rhymes until I got home / Ya understand? Once you memorize a sentence / It’s like an exercise1 / [echoes] / [heavy breathing] / [talking] / Ya niggas can’t be serious right now / I’m the all time heavy weight champion of flows / I’m leading the league in at least six statistical categories right now / Best flow, Most consistent, Realest stories / Most charisma, I set the most trends / And my interviews are hotter / Holla / I jog in the graveyard / Spar in the same ring / Now it’s housed by the building / Where Malcolm X was slain2 / I spring train in the winter3 / Round early December / Run suicide drills over and over / With the weight of the world on my shoulder / That’s why they call me “Hova”4 / I’m far from being God / But I work goddamn hard / I wake up with the birds when the nerds are asleep / I’m catching my second wind the second the first one end / I am focused man / And I’m not afraid of death / And I’m going all out / I circle the vultures in a van and / I run the block (run) / Pull up in a drop (pull up) / Push up on my money (push up)5 / I’m in great shape dunny / I keep jacks jumping thirty-six sets / Like a personal trainer I teach coke to stretch6 / I pump in Rock sweats / All white trainers / The ghettoes, Billy Blanks / I show you niggas what pain is / Maintain your stamina / Hov will damage ya / Spot you two rhymes y’all niggas is amateurs / The fifth / A dead lift if / Niggas don’t want to get shot then y’all niggas better squat / I drop your set for rep / No need to hit the showers / The spit from the fifth leave you wet7 / Lyrical exercise / [hard breathing] / Y’all niggas ain’t tired right? / One, One / Two, Two / Three, Three / Four, Breathe Easy / Suckers / Get your weight up / Not your hate up / Jigga man is diesel / When I lift the eight up8 / Y’all ain’t ready to workout with the boy / Your flow is brain on drugs / Mines is rap on steroids / I lift every voice when I sing / My ability / Make yours look like an exercise in futility / Bring your squad / Biceps, Triceps, and Quads / We don’t struggle with undeveloped muscle / Y’all ain’t real / That’s y’all Achilles’ heel / Same routine when you see me you know the drill / I spot ya / I lift the weight of the watch off your arm / Remain nice and calm / Put down your things / Trinidad of the game know my way around your ring9 / No matter how many pounds you bring / It sounds like the same old thing / R-O-C is the strongest team
MY 1ST SONG
[Intro: Notorious B.I.G. interview] / I’m just, tryin to stay above water y’know / Just stay busy, stay workin / Puff told me like, the key to this joint / The key to staying, on top of things / is treat everything like it’s your first project, knahmsayin? / Like it’s your first day like back when you was an intern / Like, that’s how you try to treat things like, just stay hungry / [Jay-Z] Uhh, uhh, yes, yes / Y’all wanna know, why he don’t stop / Y’all wanna know, why he don’t flop / Let me tell you pe-eople why / Came from the bottom of the block I / When I was born, it was sworn, I was never gon’ be shit / Had to pull the opposite out this bitch / Had to get my ri-ide on / Eyes on the prize, Shawn knew I had to / Had to had to get these chips / Had to make moves like Olajuwon1 / Started out sellin dimes and nicks / Graduated to a brick / No exaggeration, my infatuation with the strip / Legendary like a schoolboy / Crushin merely nearly every every2 chick / Heavy shit—that’s how schoolboy got whipped / And got left on some “Just Me, Myself and I”3 / On some Trugoy shit / Had to move to a place, a place of no return / Had to play with fire and get burned / Only way the boy ever gon’ learn4 / Had to lay way in the cut, till I finally got my turn / Now I’m on top in the spot that I earned / It’s my life—it’s my pain and my struggle / The song that I sing to you it’s my ev-ery-thing / Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first / And my thirst is the same as when I came / It’s my joy and my tears and the laughter it brings to me / It’s my ev-ery-thing / Like I never rode in a limo / Like I just dropped flows to a demo / Like it’s ninety-two again and / And I got O’s in the rental / Back in the Stu’ again, no problemo livin was a whole lot simpler / When you think back, you thought that / you would never make it this far, then you / take advantage of the luck you handed / Or the talent you been given / Ain’t no half-steppin,5 ain’t no, no slippin / Ain’t no different from a block that’s hittin’ / Gotta get it while the getting’s good / Gotta strike while the iron’s hot, ’fore you stop6 / Then you gotta bid it good riddance / Goodbye, this is my second major breakup / My first was with a pager / With a hooptie, a cookpot, and the GAME / This one’s with the studio, with the stage, with the fortune / Maybe not the fortune, but certainly the FAME7
“If you’re proud to be an American, put your hands up now!” It was the night after the inauguration and I was in Washington, D.C., playing a free show for ten thousand Obama for America volunteers. It was the cap of a euphoric and surreal few months, when the entire history of the world that I’d known up to that point totally flipped. The words “proud to be an American” were not words I’d ever thought I’d say. I’d written America off, at least politically.
Of course, it’s my home, and home to millions of people trying to do the right thing, not to mention the home of hip-hop, Quentin Tarantino flicks, the crossover dribble and lots of other things I couldn’t live without. But politically, its history is a travesty. A graveyard. And I knew some of the bodies it buried.
It never seemed as hopeless as it was during the eight years that preceded that night in Washington. I was so over America that if John McCain and Sarah Palin had won that election I was seriously ready to pack up, get some land in some other country, and live as an expat in protest. The idea of starting a show that way would’ve been, at any other time in my entire life up to that point, completely perverse. Because America, as I understood the concept, hated my black ass.
FUCK GOVERNMENT, NIGGAS POLITIC THEMSELVES
Poor people in general have a twisted relationship with the government. We’re aware of the government from the time we’re born. We live in government-funded housing and work government jobs. We have family and friends spending time in the ultimate public housing, prison. We grow up knowing people who pay for everything with little plastic cards—Medicare cards for checkups, EBT cards for food. We know what AFDC and WIC stand for and we stand for hours waiting for bricks of government cheese. The first and fifteenth of each month are times of peak economic activity. We get to know all kinds of government agencies not because of civics class, but because they actually visit our houses and sit up on our couches asking questions. From the time we’re small children we go to crumbling public schools that tell us all we need to know about what the government thinks of us.
Then there are the cops.
In places like Marcy there are people who know the ins and outs of government bureaucracies, police procedures, and sentencing guidelines, who spend half of their lives in dirty waiting rooms on plastic chairs waiting for someone to call their name. But for all of this
involvement, the government might as well be the weather because a lot of us don’t think we have anything to do with it—we don’t believe we have any control over this thing that controls us. A lot of our heroes, almost by default, were people who tried to dismantle or overthrow the government—Malcolm X or the Black Panthers—or people who tried to make it completely irrelevant, like Marcus Garvey, who wanted black people to sail back to Africa. The government was everywhere we looked, and we hated it.
Housing projects are a great metaphor for the government’s relationship to poor folks: these huge islands built mostly in the middle of nowhere, designed to warehouse lives. People are still people, though, so we turned the projects into real communities, poor or not. We played in fire hydrants and had cookouts and partied, music bouncing off concrete walls. But even when we could shake off the full weight of those imposing buildings and try to just live, the truth of our lives and struggle was still invisible to the larger country. The rest of the country was freed of any obligation to claim us. Which was fine, because we weren’t really claiming them, either.
CAN’T SEE THE UNSEEABLE, REACH THE UNREACHABLE
Hip-hop, of course, was hugely influential in finally making our slice of America visible through our own lens—not through the lens of outsiders. But it wasn’t easy.
There are all the famous incidents of censorship and intimidation: the way politicians attacked rappers, the free-speech cases with groups like Two Live Crew, the dramas surrounding Public Enemy and political rap, the threatening letters from the FBI protesting NWA. But the attempts at censorship only made the targets bigger stars. NWA couldn’t have bought the kind of publicity they got from having the actual fucking FBI attacking them over a song. This was when you had one prominent Harlem pastor renting a bulldozer and calling news cameras to film him running over a pile of rap CDs in the middle of 125th Street. When WBLS, a legendary black-owned radio station in New York, stripped hip-hop from their playlists in sympathy with the protest, another radio station, Hot 97, came along with an all-rap format and went straight to number one. In a few years, WBLS came back to rap. In the end, you can’t censor the truth, especially when it comes packaged in hot music.