[Intro: Choir]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
[Bridge: Childish Gambino & Young Thug]
We just wanna party
Party just for you
We just want the money
Money just for you (yeah)
I know you wanna party
Party just for me
Girl, you got me dancin' (girl, you got me dancin')
Dance and shake the frame (yeah)
We just wanna party (yeah)
Party just for you (yeah)
We just want the money (yeah)
Money just for you (you)
I know you wanna party (yeah)
Party just for me (yeah)
Girl, you got me dancin' (girl, you got me dancin', yeah)
Dance and shake the frame (ooh)
[Chorus: Childish Gambino]
This is America
Don't catch you slippin' now
Don't catch you slippin' now
Look what I'm whippin' now
This is America (woo)
Don't catch you slippin' now
Don't catch you slippin' now
Look what I'm whippin' now
[Verse 1: Childish Gambino, Blocboy JB, Slim Jxmmi, Young Thug, & 21 Savage]
This is America (skrrt, skrrt, woo)
Don't catch you slippin' now (ayy)
Look at how I'm livin' now
Police be trippin' now (woo)
Yeah, this is America (woo, ayy)
Guns in my area (word, my area)
I got the strap (ayy, ayy)
I gotta carry 'em
Yeah, yeah, I'ma go into this (ugh)
Yeah, yeah, this is guerilla (woo)
Yeah, yeah, I'ma go get the bag
Yeah, yeah, or I'ma get the pad
Yeah, yeah, I'm so cold like, yeah (yeah)
I'm so dope like, yeah (woo)
We gon' blow like yeah (straight up, uh)
[Refrain: Choir & Childish Gambino]
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
You gon' tell somebody
Grandma told me
Get your money, Black man (get your money)
Get your money, Black man (get your money)
Get your money, Black man (get your—Black man)
Get your money, Black man (get your—Black man)
Black man
[Chorus: Childish Gambino, Slim Jxmmi, & Young Thug]
This is America (woo, ayy)
Don't catch you slippin' now (woo, woo, don't catch you slippin', now)
Don't catch you slippin' now (ayy, woah)
Look what I'm whippin' now (Slime!)
This is America (yeah, yeah)
Don't catch you slippin' now (woah, ayy)
Don't catch you slippin' now (ayy, woo)
Look what I'm whippin' now (ayy)
[Verse 2: Childish Gambino, Quavo, Young Thug, & 21 Savage]
Look how I'm geekin' out (hey)
I'm so fitted (I'm so fitted, woo)
I'm on Gucci (I'm on Gucci)
I'm so pretty (yeah, yeah)
I'm gon' get it (ayy, I'm gon' get it)
Watch me move (blaow)
This a celly (ha)
That's a tool (yeah)
On my Kodak (woo, Black)
Ooh, know that (yeah, know that, hold on)
Get it (get it, get it)
Ooh, work it (21)
Hunnid bands, hunnid bands, hunnid bands (hunnid bands)
Contraband, contraband, contraband (contraband)
I got the plug in Oaxaca (woah)
They gonna find you like blocka (blaow)
[Refrain: Choir, Childish Gambino, & Young Thug]
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
America, I just checked my following list, and—
You gon' tell somebody
—you mothafuckas owe me
Grandma told me
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (get your—Black man)
Get your money, Black man (get your—Black man)
Black man
(One, two, three—get down)
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
You gon' tell somebody
Grandma told me, "Get your money"
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Black man
[Outro: Young Thug]
You just a black man in this world
You just a barcode, ayy
You just a black man in this world
Drivin' expensive foreigns, ayy
You just a big dawg, yeah
I kenneled him in the backyard
No probably ain't life to a dog
For a big dog
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go away
[Bridge: Childish Gambino & Young Thug]
We just wanna party
Party just for you
We just want the money
Money just for you (yeah)
I know you wanna party
Party just for me
Girl, you got me dancin' (girl, you got me dancin')
Dance and shake the frame (yeah)
We just wanna party (yeah)
Party just for you (yeah)
We just want the money (yeah)
Money just for you (you)
I know you wanna party (yeah)
Party just for me (yeah)
Girl, you got me dancin' (girl, you got me dancin', yeah)
Dance and shake the frame (ooh)
[Chorus: Childish Gambino]
This is America
Don't catch you slippin' now
Don't catch you slippin' now
Look what I'm whippin' now
This is America (woo)
Don't catch you slippin' now
Don't catch you slippin' now
Look what I'm whippin' now
[Verse 1: Childish Gambino, Blocboy JB, Slim Jxmmi, Young Thug, & 21 Savage]
This is America (skrrt, skrrt, woo)
Don't catch you slippin' now (ayy)
Look at how I'm livin' now
Police be trippin' now (woo)
Yeah, this is America (woo, ayy)
Guns in my area (word, my area)
I got the strap (ayy, ayy)
I gotta carry 'em
Yeah, yeah, I'ma go into this (ugh)
Yeah, yeah, this is guerilla (woo)
Yeah, yeah, I'ma go get the bag
Yeah, yeah, or I'ma get the pad
Yeah, yeah, I'm so cold like, yeah (yeah)
I'm so dope like, yeah (woo)
We gon' blow like yeah (straight up, uh)
[Refrain: Choir & Childish Gambino]
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
You gon' tell somebody
Grandma told me
Get your money, Black man (get your money)
Get your money, Black man (get your money)
Get your money, Black man (get your—Black man)
Get your money, Black man (get your—Black man)
Black man
[Chorus: Childish Gambino, Slim Jxmmi, & Young Thug]
This is America (woo, ayy)
Don't catch you slippin' now (woo, woo, don't catch you slippin', now)
Don't catch you slippin' now (ayy, woah)
Look what I'm whippin' now (Slime!)
This is America (yeah, yeah)
Don't catch you slippin' now (woah, ayy)
Don't catch you slippin' now (ayy, woo)
Look what I'm whippin' now (ayy)
[Verse 2: Childish Gambino, Quavo, Young Thug, & 21 Savage]
Look how I'm geekin' out (hey)
I'm so fitted (I'm so fitted, woo)
I'm on Gucci (I'm on Gucci)
I'm so pretty (yeah, yeah)
I'm gon' get it (ayy, I'm gon' get it)
Watch me move (blaow)
This a celly (ha)
That's a tool (yeah)
On my Kodak (woo, Black)
Ooh, know that (yeah, know that, hold on)
Get it (get it, get it)
Ooh, work it (21)
Hunnid bands, hunnid bands, hunnid bands (hunnid bands)
Contraband, contraband, contraband (contraband)
I got the plug in Oaxaca (woah)
They gonna find you like blocka (blaow)
[Refrain: Choir, Childish Gambino, & Young Thug]
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
America, I just checked my following list, and—
You gon' tell somebody
—you mothafuckas owe me
Grandma told me
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (get your—Black man)
Get your money, Black man (get your—Black man)
Black man
(One, two, three—get down)
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
You gon' tell somebody
Grandma told me, "Get your money"
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Get your money, Black man (Black man)
Black man
[Outro: Young Thug]
You just a black man in this world
You just a barcode, ayy
You just a black man in this world
Drivin' expensive foreigns, ayy
You just a big dawg, yeah
I kenneled him in the backyard
No probably ain't life to a dog
For a big dog
×
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.
Anteprima dell'album CG4*
Definire una nazione è il compito primario della politica, e oggi il punto di vista di Glover è chiaro. Gli Stati Uniti sono un posto dove i neri sono inseguiti e uccisi a colpi di pistola, e dove i neri ballano e cantano per non pensare – loro per primi, ma forse anche tutto il resto del paese – a questa carneficina. Gli Stati Uniti sono un posto dove ci sono allo stesso tempo violenza e celebrazione, e se l’attenzione va all’una o all’altra dipende da cosa si mette in primo piano, e da cosa vuole vedere chi osserva.
In This is America, Glover ogni tanto strabuzza gli occhi e s’immobilizza. Oppure si scioglie, muovendo le spalle come se fossero le branchie di un pesce spiaggiato. All’inizio del video contorce il corpo con strani movimenti, sparando poi un colpo di pistola alla testa di un uomo seduto di spalle. La sua posa ricorda la caricatura classica di Jim Crow.
La musica in sé è più un collage artistico che una canzone, e la sua orecchiabilità è più un mezzo che un fine. Usando una serie di motivi allegri, linee di basso che preannunciano inquietudine e grida alla James Brown, Glover ricalca gli stilemi dell’hip-pop. Alcuni rapper alla moda fanno capolino con le loro caratteristiche improvvisazioni. “Skrrt, skrrt”, canta Slim Jxmmi, mentre Glover mette insieme parole chiave come party, money e cops.
Il video, a questo punto, permette di chiarire il significato semisatirico. Glover e un gruppo di ragazzi in divisa da scolari danno vita a coreografie ispirate a filmati virali e a immagini storiche di performance di artisti neri, mentre la telecamera di Hiro Murai li segue spesso a media distanza, con un effetto di snervante indifferenza (Murai è uno dei principali collaboratori di Glover in Atlanta). Un vortice d’inseguimenti, disordini e sparatorie si svolge ai margini. Il canto e i passi di danza a tratti sospendono il caos, mentre a tratti lo accompagnano.
Glover non è certo il primo artista a suggerire che l’intrattenimento popolare nero possa funzionare contemporaneamente da buffoneria che soddisfa un sistema razzista, e da valvola di sfogo gioiosa per le persone sottomesse a questo sistema. Né è il primo a descrivere il costo psicologico di questo sistema, come si vede nel momento in cui Glover si accende stancamente una canna e quando, in un altro spazio che potrebbe forse indicare il suo inconscio, fugge terrorizzato da un branco di inseguitori bianchi. Ma lo sguardo e la messa in scena di Murai e la performance di Glover sono allo stesso tempo così eleganti e surreali che il messaggio emerge con forza e originalità. L’uso stridente degli spazi vuoti, i contrasti e il tempismo rendono ogni fotogramma crudo e vitale.
da Donald Glover ci guarda mentre noi lo guardiamo di Spencer Kornhaber, The Atlantic.