Musique : découvrez l’hymne du lockout

Voici le clip et les paroles d’un rap inspiré par le lockout.

Les paroles sont tout aussi violentes (mais il y a quelques vérités) que celles du morceau de Stephen Jackson mais le rythme et le flow sont bien plus relax.

La NBA et les proprios apprécieront ce rap version « middle finger ».

[videopub https://youtu.be/vKd5py3Pimg]

Auteur : Rube

Paroles

Dear Mr. Commissioner
You say you’re just doing your job so then what’s the season missing for
You known about this thing since way back
Rewind to ’99 why you wanna play that?
Man you got problems David,
You got bigger problems David
So why you talkin bout the money owners payin are you sayin
we should cap the price of tickets to the game are you playin?
Right now fans are getting laid off while the boss is paid off
We just wanna see our favorite player – play him!
Arenas like our pockets sittin empty and you smiling like you friendly
Say I shouldn’t hold my breath for a deal
Motherf—in Stern I thought you would’ve learned
From the last time that the consequence of this is real

Dear Mr. Owns the team man,
Why you actin like a corrupt policeman?
You makin money and don’t tell noone
Then pretend that your profit is low son
Man you actin shady bady
You’re too damn shady baby
Tell me how come I lose my appetite and get short of breath
Every time that you come on TV
I turn the volume down, I don’t wanna hear a sound
I’m pissed off at the way that you comin at me
Tellin me my team is on hold, man it just got
And as the winter gets cold, your money just gon drop
It’s hard to say there’s hardship when a garbage team gets flipped
For 500 million man you can’t say shit

My middle finger to you all
I’m getting bored can you wonder why
Make you listen impossible but I’ma fuckin try
Bitch how you gon tell me you wanna change the rules
I thought the goal was the ring – just let em lace they shoes
Instead you talkin bout some hard cap, BRI
Money splittin piece of pie
Each side wants the cash stackin till it reach the sky
Owners need to stop bitchin
You can protect yourselves from your own bad decisions
And your position is ironic
Cuz the players the ones bringing you the product
You seem to think their talents are replaceable be honest
Hey you wanna make some money? Make a deal give me
And the rest of the country something to see
But when I’m stuck watching reruns of Malcolm in the Middle
And World Series of Poker can you fathom just a little
The void that I feel and let it get filled
Then even if the boys come back, your money stands still