Black Beatles, a collaborative poem by Khalif Brown, Radric Davis, and Aaquil Brown
Black Beatles A collaborative poem* by Khalif Brown (b. 1995; Tupelo, MS) by Radric Davis (b. 1980; Atlanta, GA) by Aaquil Brown (b. 1993; Tupelo, MS)
Khalif Brown That girl is a real crowd pleaser, Small world, all her friends know of me, Young bull livin' like an old geezer, Quick release the cash, watch it fall slowly. Frat girls still tryna get even, Haters mad for whatever reason, Smoke in the air, binge drinking, They lose it when the DJ drops the needle.
Getting so gone I'm not blinkin', What in the world was I thinkin'? New day, new money to be made, There is nothin' to explain.
I'm a fuckin' black Beatle cream seats in the Regal Rockin' John Lennon lenses like to see ‘em spread eagle, Took a bitch to the club and let her party on the table Screamin', "Everybody's famous!"
Like clockwork I blow it all, And get some more, Get you somebody that can do both, Black Beatles got the babes belly rollin' She think she love me, I think she trollin'.
Radric Davis Came in with two girls look like strippers in their real clothes, A broke ho can only point me to a rich ho, A yellow bitch with green hair, a real weirdo, Black man, yellow Lamb', red light go!
They seen that Guwop and them just came in through the side door, There's so much money on the floor we buyin' school clothes, Why you bring the money machine to the club for? Pint of lean, pound of weed, and a kilo.
I Eurostep past a hater like I'm Rondo, I upgrade your baby mama to a condo, Like Chapo servin' yayo to the gringos Black Beatle, club close when I say so.
Aaquil Brown She's a good teaser, and we blowin' reefer, Your body like a work of art, baby, Don't fuck with me, I'll break your heart, baby.
D&G on me, I got a lot of flavor, 15 hundred on my feet I'm tryna kill these haters, I had haters when I was broke, I'm rich, I still got haters! I had hoes when I was broke, I'm rich, I'm still a player!
I wear leather Gucci jackets like it's still the 80s, I've been blowin' OG Kush, I feel a lil' sedated, I can't worry about a broke nigga or a hater, Black Beatle, bitch, me and Paul McCartney related!
*This was not published as a written poem but rather as a rap song under Khalif Brown’s professional name, Swae Lee, and Aaquil Brown’s professional name, Slim Jxmmi, to form the group Rae Sremmurd featuring Davis under his professional name, Gucci Mane. The poetic sensibilities of rappers are almost always overlooked in discourse about rap and hip-hop. When I saw so much public outrage over Bob Dylan receiving the Nobel Prize in Literature I realized the public’s acceptance of rap as art and rappers as the new generation of American poets was much further away than I had hoped. Perhaps young Bob Dylan fans in the ’60’s and beyond were sick of hearing Dylan’s art referred to as merely the rantings of an angry young Jew. I am sick of hearing various rappers’ art referred to the rantings of angry young black men. Rap can be poetry. Poetry can be art. Let’s start actually listening instead of hearing only what we think we should hear.
