This is a poem about Nicki Minaj from up poet Jasmine Mans. This joint is fire and it provided me with a different perspective about Nicki's image. At first listen I took it as a diss but after repeated listens I realized this piece said much more.
Here are the words:
You are being traded paper in exchange for you to be plastic
All Dolls will evidentially mal-function
(I don't even know why you girls bother at this point like give it up, it 's me I win you lose)
I must admit
(Its, its me)
I have always been intrigued by your ass,
I guess that's what the world looked like after falling from your shoulders.
(Like give it up)
You have the heartbeat of a suicide bomber
A baseline breathing out of your pulse
Your thighs play storage for the weight of the world
I dreamt that you used to back packed, the lost raps, of Female MCs who could not find their way out the cipher
(Its just like I single handedly annihilated like every rape bitch in the build)
Traded in your crown for unsharpened pencils and blank CDs
(Like give it up)
Do you ever feel a cord gripping on your neck, choke, spit?
Don't let this industry fuck the Assata out of you
Can and will never be code for queen
You are a Queen no matter how many times they try to shuffle you back in tape decks.
Bi Sex, straight, you've earned my respect
(You da Bestest)
But I know your spine binds and crooked lines
And you can't seem to write a rhyme for your broken daughters
Slaughter, bent over back, ass cracked, bitch slapped, in videos
There is nothing pedal bike pretty about broken
Do you know what this media is trying to do to you?
They will porcelain
Doll the shit out of you
Leave you noose necked hanging from Zion they will Lauryn Hill you
The mis-education of a Barbie doll coming soon
(I just had an epiphany)
Barbie, I think NYC is making you forget you come from Queens
Its scary when you have wack MCs trying to ghost write your obituary
(You should buy a 16 cuz I write it good)
Your existence is not recyclable to me
Stop spitting me toy stories
Of Woodys and Buzzlight Years who only come alive when no body is watching
Once upon a time before puberty and tissue filled training bras all little girls wanted a toy chest
What do you treasure? *
You have turned your G-spot into a land-mind
We have been waiting centuries for a woman like you to carve your stiletto in history
This microphone is not a dildo so you are going to have to cum a little harder than that,
(I, win, I win, you lose)
Come a little harder for rap
Too many women before you have laid down tracks -- UNIT...Y?
So you wouldn't have to record your on your back
Spit some shit it for girls who kiss girls and got beat down to their backs
We will remember you for that
Lips sync your screams and remember your inflections and copyright your raps
For young money anyone can buy themselves their own ( I'm Nick Minaj, Nicki Lewinski, Nicki Barbie, the boss)
Crown, Vagina, Womanhood, and Talent,
All Sold separately
You are being stabbed in the back
Inserted with a wind up string and a tag?
(R, R, R, Roger that)