Aggravated Afternoon (Dancing In the Rain)

The beep from my car unlocking rings the empty parking lot as the clock reflects off the dash 7:45. Long day at work concluded with maximum creative frustration reached. I love my job but somedays just get to your mental- I couldn’t WAIT to get home.

Look, it’s six o’clock, I’m hoppin’ out of the bed

Rain fallin’, callin’ ex but my phone line is dead

The tires rolling over the wet concrete at a speed of 55mph was my escape from my stress until someone cuts in my lane doing 30. “God, I ask you why you’re putting this patience on me, haven’t I taken enough today?”

The car finds its gas pedal and we’re on our way to the highway… I sit in high anticipation. Just get me home already…

I guess my bills ain’t paid

No ride to work for the day

Second option hop the bus but there’s a traffic delay

My boss trippin’ ’cause I’m runnin’ late and ain’t no excuse

When I’m about to be twenty-two without a whip I could swoop

Feel like I’m finna’ shoot my own dome with chrome to escape

Zonin’ out ’cause workin’ workin’ out ain’t worth what I make

Finally getting on the highway just to see that late nights aren’t going to get me out of the traffic jam that awaits me everyday after 5 PM. No point in tripping’ and swerving lanes so I just sit and wait my turn. “What am I going to do when I get back? I don’t even have the patience to make food, I’m going out. Grab my pad and pen and break to the bar down the road.”

My lady callin’, buggin’, always fussin’, just cause we ain’t ballin’

But it’s hard because her cousin is fuckin’ rich

‘Cause her husband’s hustlin’

And I ain’t fuckin touchin’ nothin’ but a mic

Getting off the highway after getting on the gas for a little bit but when you live in the city… Just pulled up into more traffic of the day’s workers returning home. Traffic lights turn green and I’m off once again. A honk rings behind me as I turn on my road. No patience taken aside for me today- I’m floored.

Five o’clock and off of work ready to go home and write

But I ain’t got a buck to catch the bus, chillin’ at the stop

Rain fallin’ hard as ever and it’s soakin’ my socks

Pull up on my apartment building and park. No lights on in the apartment, Krissy must be out- time for me to go too.

Fuck it, kick my kicks off and took off my jacket

Roll my jeans up, beat up and my headphones blastin’

Blazed some weed up and started laughin’

While I’m splashin’ in puddles like

Mothafuck a struggle we dancin’ in the rain

I take the work clothes off and line up some mellowly classy attire to slide into before I look to my phone- 4 new messages from Daniel. “Always calming me down even at 2 AM… I should calm it down let me reply to him” *buzz buzz* screen flashes “Go get a drink and wind down my crazy American (;” Who am I to deny the man’s advice? Out I go to the rainy street of Minneapolis.

Don’t nobody wanna dance slow in the rain

Just move yo’ ass

Just move yo’ ass (yeah)

As the storm door shuts and I emerge out the building the regular dog walker passes by with his eyes darted at the ground. I smile incase he wants a glance of the anticipation I have for this drink.

Don’t nobody wanna liberate the way to the pain

Just move yo’ ass

Just move yo’ ass

Stepping down the way, people passing both ways and my position hasn’t changed, determined to get to the Lowrey. What do I need to let out onto the page? Reach the lights and turn on right- what’s this?

Sometimes I hate takin trips to the lab

Got my pen and pad, bookin’ instrumentals in smash

Catch the bus regardless

Tryin’ hard to be an artist

But my A&R be callin’ me out my zone into his office

The coffee shop around the corner I always pass by. Maybe some caffeine will enhance my wordplay and break this anxiousness. Cross the street and the closer I get the more happy people I see.

Bein’ cautious ’cause he don’t want my record to break

Askin’ me how I think my projects progressin’ and shit

I say cool but the truth is I’m stressin’ a grip

‘Cause it’s hard to make music when this depression exists

They say use it as inspiration, the best of them did

But as the MC I can’t handle this pressure for shit

I walk in and run into someone coming out. Luckily the aggravation hadn’t shown on my face when saying “excuse me” but their smile flashed mad me wind down- “it’s okay.”

And if you ask me stress is a bitch

My girl needs more attention

And my record label is desperate for hits

Now I’m pissed ’cause I’m gettin’ out the zone again

Makes me start to dread when I see a microphone

This shit ain’t supposed to be like that

Ordering in these new age coffee shops is hard for all age groups who have their favourite coffee joint order down. Double shot expresso in a nice iced latte with a pump or two of mocha and I’m set. Find a nice quiet corner spot right behind these three separate guys working on work or homework and I feel right at home. Now to text Daniel back.

I said I’ll be right back

I left the office, got a phone and called my partner Jack

And I asked him, remind me why I’m rappin’?

And right before he answered I remembered my passion in the past

When I was scribblin’ in my tablet to box out my mom and dads scrappin’

To help me when my grandmother passed

Plus the many times that I was homeless

And the times when I was broke

And this music made a way when I was hopeless

He told me to remember the rain, it’ll diminish the pain

Then he told me not to ask him again ’cause I know

Texting paragraphs makes me want to put more on paper so I pull out me pen and notepad, to write of love, to write about the clarity of a bad day, or just to write? Pen stands at the ready as I feel the eyes of the crowd await for my poetry to flow. Ohhhh I don’t know.

Don’t nobody wanna dance slow in the rain (yeah)

Just move yo’ ass

Just move yo’ ass (yeah)

Some words come to mind but are they the words of choice? Too tired for second thoughts I just put them to the page. Foundation building I see the structure of my mosaic and direct my written construction. *Ring* *Incoming Call From MOM* Derails my thinking so I ignore the call.

Don’t nobody wanna liberate the way to the pain

Just move yo’ ass

Just move yo’ ass

Now staring at the paper sipping down the last of my drink. Look up and the audience twiddled down to just a guy in the opposite corner staring at me just over his computer screen. *deeply breath in then let it all out with every stress* Packin’ it in for the coffee shop. Thank the baristas then proceed out into the streets again.

Don’t nobody wanna dance slow in the rain (yeah)

So just move yo’ ass (yeah, uh)

Just move yo’ ass

Now the rain lightened up and the Friday night streets lit up with all sorts of people. I, alone, strut along Hennepin with my head firmly in my headphones trying to find inspiration when Blu & Exile come on and make me feel my position. I just want to move on from this stress and into the movement of my art. Why is it so damn hard?

And don’t nobody wanna liberate the way to the pain

So just move yo’ ass

Just move yo’ ass

Arrive to the Lowry and it’s packed. One spot at the bar opens up and I sit between a middle aged couple who’ve captured one night for themselves and a older man who didn’t appreciate the company. I strut in without a care and order something strong and delightful. *Replay and sip back* Break out my writing utensils again and begin to drift into the moment with the melody booming and lyrics pouring right into my subconscious telling me cool it down.

Don’t nobody wanna liberate the way to the pain

Just move yo’ ass

Just move yo’ ass (yeah, uh)

Don’t nobody wanna

Don’t nobody wanna

Don’t nobody wanna

The words start to spew like water from a brand new spout.

Dance slow in the rain (check it)

Don’t nobody wanna (uh)


Don’t nobody wanna dance slow in the rain

So just move yo’ ass

Just move yo’ ass (yeah, uh)

Eyes start to wonder on both sides seeing something unraveling right infant of their eyes and my whole genius shines out to a fanally that was, personally, well welcomed.

Don’t nobody wanna liberate the way to the pain

So just move yo’ ass

Just move yo ass

Sit back when the last syllable is concluded just as the song ends… My night is mended and my voice out on paper. I smile because it finally all got out of me and then I hear, “Who goes to a bar to write?” Pshhhhh..

This entry is my experience living out and fully enjoying some genius lyrics and badass jazzy-metro beat Performed and recorded by Blu & Exile.

Blu & Exile

Thank you to all the musicians, composers, writers and dreamers for inspiring so many of us to pursue our dreams on the daily.

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