Man by Skepta Lyrics Meaning – Decoding the Shrewd Commentary on Fame and Fraternity
Lyrics
Like hmm, my mum don’t know your mum
Stop telling man you’re my cousin
I got day ones and I got new ones
No fake ones, trust no one
It’s Boy Better Know ’til I die
Tryna run up in the bank like Bonnie and Clyde
Cause man get money with the gang
Man get girls with the gang
Man eat food with the gang
Man talk slang to the feds
Can’t work out what I just said to a man
Told me you was a big fan but the first thing you said when you saw me is “Can I get a pic for the gram?”
I was like “Nah, sorry man”
I only socialize with the crew and the gang
Woah, guess who’s back
Came a long way from sittin’ in the flats
Came a long way from when whites never used to mix with blacks
Now all my white niggas and my black mates, we got the game on smash
I used to rate your page on MySpace but you never stayed on track
Upset cause your wife is a fan, she done with a little boy
Now she wants to be with a man
Told my accountant “Do me a transfer, cause I wanna buy some land”
You and I have got different plans
Real mad man, I might go Saint Ann’s
No triple A pass, no wristbands
You are not mandem, you are not gang
Tracksuit Mafia, Boy Better Know
My ones, my team
Meridian, bad blocks
London boys, active boys
You get me?
Man get money with the gang
Man get girls with the gang
Man eat food with the gang
Man talk slang to the feds
Can’t work out what I just said to a man
Told me you was a big fan but the first thing you said when you saw me is “Can I get a pic for the gram?”
I was like “Nah, sorry man”
I only socialize with the crew and the gang
They wanna see me drown
Tryna hold the mandem down
Cause I shutdown Shoreditch car park
And I got bars like Camden Town
Out there tryna survive on the streets
Tryin’ not to get killed by the police
And I be schoolin’ MC’s
Nobody leaves ’til half-past-three
This year I’mma teach them a lesson
Tell Grace don’t reply to those emails
Nah, I don’t wanna do no sessions
It’s like them man have got an obsession with my style of expression
But in public, never hear my name mentioned
Catch them at the nightclub entrance
Always seekin’ attention
But I be inside, tryna get burst
Lookin’ all cool like Herc
Dressed like I just come from P.E
You’re dressed like you just come from church
Better do your research
You don’t wanna hear my verse come after your verse
MCs act brand new cause they got a little money in their purse
So you had a good solo career?
Had a few big songs over the years?
Back then you was a real Top Boy
But right now fam, nobody cares
Walked in the club, everybody’s like
“Who is he? Why is he walkin’ around with security?”
You know the postcode when you’re talkin’ road
Better know that I speak that fluently
I don’t know why man’s callin’ me family all of a sudden
Like hmm, my mum don’t know your mum
Stop telling man you’re my cousin
I got day ones and I got new ones
No fake ones, trust no one
It’s Boy Better Know ’til I die
Tryna run up in the bank like Bonnie and Clyde
Cause
Man get money with the gang
Man get girls with the gang
Man eat food with the gang
Man talk slang to the feds
Can’t work out what I just said to a man
Told me you was a big fan but the first thing you said when you saw me is “Can I get a pic for the gram?”
I was like “Nah, sorry man”
I only socialize with the crew and the gang
Deep within the percussive beats and the intoxicating rhymes of UK grime lies a narrative that delves far beyond mere musical notes. Skepta’s ‘Man,’ a formidable track from his acclaimed album ‘Konnichiwa,’ manifests as an intricate tapestry of the rapper’s perspective on fame, friendship, and authenticity.
It isn’t just a song; it’s a cultural thesis, a reflective diary entry from one of grime’s most respected figures. Skepta dissects the dichotomy of public perception and personal identity, the fickle nature of the music industry, and the essence of loyalty. Each verse is laced with introspection, a gritty snapshot of his evolution as an artist and person.
The Faux Familiarity of Fame
Skepta pulls no punches when confronting the false sense of closeness that fame attracts. ‘Man’ opens with a direct address to those who claim a relation that simply isn’t there, highlighting the superficiality permeating the music scene. It’s a deft jab at the hangers-on who vie for the social capital that comes with being seen amongst hip-hop royalty.
The artist’s contempt for pretense sets a stark contrast to the genuine connections – the ‘day ones’ and ‘new ones’ that are earned rather than assumed. In this maelstrom of notoriety, Skepta carves out a clear boundary: loyalty over familiarity, substance over show.
A Brotherhood Forged in Grime
In a world of complex social dynamics, Skepta finds solace in the unbreakable bond of his clique, the Boy Better Know collective. ‘Man’ isn’t simply a brag track; it’s an ode to the comradery that has been his mainstay amidst the turbulence of fame. The repeated chorus illustrates daily life with his crew, a testament to shared experiences that fortify their brotherhood.
This central theme runs through Skepta’s veins like the London streets — ingrained, indispensable, invincible. It’s an affirmation of allegiance and unity within a cutthroat industry.
Unmasking the Performative Hijinks
Skepta takes on the duality of public personas and personal truths with surgical precision. He calls out those who drum up exaggerated versions of themselves, adorned with the ‘triple A pass’ and ‘wristbands,’ yet remain strangers to the genuine grime scene. ‘Man’ is a critical observation of an industry where you can play a role but can’t ever fake substance.
Each bar is a stripped-down challenge to the industry’s status quo, as Skepta reminds his peers that money and trends may shift, but authenticity is the true mainstay. In a way, ‘Man’ becomes a yardstick for reality versus the theatricality of hip-hop bravado.
The Chronicles of an Unapologetic Rise
Navigating through the track’s imposing beats, Skepta recounts his journey from humble beginnings to a position of influence. ‘Came a long way from sittin’ in the flats’ to disrupting spaces like Shoreditch car park and hanging onto his roots while the genre’s complexion was mirrored in society’s tapestry.
In true grime fashion, ‘Man’ encapsulates Skepta’s stature as a self-made cultural iconoclast. Yet, his ascendence isn’t just marked by his rebellion against the societal grain, but by consciously using his voice, a voice that remains eloquent in any postcode.
The Power Lines: More Than Just Lyrics
From the dismissive ‘Nah, sorry man’ to the brazen ‘You are not mandem, you are not gang,’ Skepta’s ‘Man’ etches memorable lines that transcend the confines of the song to become cultural maxims. It reflects the shared sentiments of those yearning for genuine connection in a digital age suffused with superficiality.
The rawness of his lyricism resonates on a frequency that reverberates through the heart of urban Britain and the broader landscape of music. For Skepta, it’s not just about the beats or even the lyrics; it’s about challenging the narrative and remaining a steadfast custodian of truth.
