Can’t we all just get along? From Max Bell Alper, to Peter Shih to Greg Gopman–the increasing divide between transient techies and displaced Bay Area natives is growing–and the media isn’t helping. Today, Sam Sles, a brethren of my high school alma mater, decided enough is enough. Releasing a rap video entitled “SF .0” the rapper born Sam Slesinger made it clear, “It’s an issue of housing scarcity, land and, governmental policy, that need to service diversity, economically.”
Below are the full lyrics. For a nice write up about the video, check out Megan Rose Dickey’s piece for Business Insider.
I was born in the City, you adopted it.
And fuck niceties, I won’t soften this,
’cause I often spit on topics for kicks,
but I’mma take it up a notch, on some toxic shit.
I’m talking ’bout,
an expansion of transplants in thick rims and tight pants,
advance on my turf like fire ants,
so I’mma fight fire with fire with my feet plant deep in the earth (San Fran)
If I see another techie I’mma grab my techie, 9 shots to his necky, better hope his carotid can clot it, and the I’s dotted on the life insurance policy, that technology provided him.
And my eyes slant, Eastwood,
wish the East would, just stay put.
It’s a zero sum game for the square foot.
Keep em outta range gat aimed like a shot-put.
And fuck Peter Shih, and Greg G-o-p-man.
They come on the tide of the big G, with cash flow from VCs, and Ed Lee, wanna let ’em live tax-free?
You can call me defiant.
But I know that together we’re Giant.
And I’m skeptical of a homogenous technical culture with municipal alliance.
So get off my bus stop, bitch.
This ain’t a city for the rich, alone.
Catch an Uber in the TL, glued to your phone.
I’d rather the homeless call this they home.
Analog monologue, my code,
is the 415, homegrown.
And I got the drive to drive out the hive of subsidized suits and ties, to reclaim the throne.
You don’t know me.
You don’t own San Fran.
And if anyone’s entitled it’s you, for thinking a rental agreement is sufficient documentation to claim land.
I may be a transplant,
But at least I don’t grandstand, like Max Bell Alper, and his straw band.
Making misguided demands in front my company van.
Bitch, I got Vans on my feet too.
I’m trying to feed my fam just the same as you.
But apparently you lack, the capacity to adapt, your tenacity, to generating some coin stacks.
Fail to grasp facts, we in a new age.
Better act fast, to accrue new skills for the pay.
Bills won’t go away, and that makes, two of us, ’cause no matter what you say, I’m settled in the Bay like:
Hippies in the 60’s.
AIDS in the 80’s.
Now we livin’ lux like Mercedes.
Had the snooze on’, but it’s time to wake up smell the daisies
‘Cause your fury is delirious, like rabies
Yeah, and I got my shots in
No shit Sherlock, I’m Watson
So damn smart, sell my start-up at an auction
All that cash money gon’ make the Bay blossom
Sam Sles, born in the SFC, now he work double-time, rhyme/technology
No need for the reference oncology,
’cause fundamentally, everybody wanna be here.
Let me make this clear, it’s an issue of scarcity land and, governmental policy,
that need to service diversity, economically.
And fuck SF Gate, ValleyWag and the link-bait blogs that promote hate
Focus on extremes and us vs. them schtick,
‘Cause the only thing that sells better than sex is conflict.
And personally that upset my shit, like, I’m in a battle with my brain split.
Give me the microphone and I’m making an indictment,
Of the media and those who think they got a license, for violence.
Might just, remind everybody how the light just, dawn on the Bay Bridge with a rightness.
And even though a price exists for this view it’s priceless, and damnit I’m feeling hella righteous,
And conscious of the bonds between HP and Twin Peaks, the Sunset and North Beach.
And that’s what Franklin preached applied to the SFC, it’s R-E-S-P-E-C-T.