Asiatic was produced by myself; Fabe and directed by Parafilm.

Thematically; the song is about my homecountry; India. In the first verse I rap about how a young boy struggles with slum-life and poverty. He uses his wit to survive. In the video this boy is portrayed by the boy in the video. The club is meant to be a metaphor for India, where everything is a facade of happiness.

As one can see in the second verse, everything turns upside down; and the boy is suddenly amongst zombie-like people. Under the facade of happiness; there is suffering and corruption; which basically sums up India (and most other poverty stricken countries).

The video is supposed to be light on metaphor, giving room for the audience to interpret the metaphor as they themselves wish.

Enjoy!

youtube: youtube.com/watch?v=QkPhu_fsspU
official webpage: fabemusic.com
facebook: facebook.com/FabeHiphop

Lyrics below!

Lyrics:
1. Verse

He was born in the city of gods but in a low cast.
Gritty days passed spent on polishing tasks; a rupee the shoe.
Father was a fake guru; savvy.
Had to boost his money coming off of being camouflaged among the realest.

Fake futures turn into big business. Off alone, solo; family connection finished.

Just the blink of an eye before the son's another purse snatcher roaming the temples
trying to survive. Still spent hours on praying and had a place. Slum-space. Mandatory base
given by higher divisions. Two sisters. Fed them what he brought home. Felt the lucky
day was when the dinner wasn't stolen.

Still patrolling cops rolling in the vehicles; blaming his ass and his alikes for the
things he didn't see as possible. Now who's the slum dog here? Flop a film
within the borders, reality scares.

Verse 2:

Street etiquettes; I'm peddling my thoughts on why some sin souls benefit
from devilish actions.

Guess I gotta dig deep down; dust on my forgotten memory
I wipe it off and then I seek. Concrete jungle as I recall.
Jinnis in my cross-piece hanging on my neck leeching the villain
in my. Late city-night. Lit up by the street lights. Bollywood appeal to the
city that teased queens- night.

Teen then. Remember private auditions; once even sneaked in to take sneak peaks,
selling of flesh and dignity for roles in a movie. Never thought a key hole
would manifest the muddy sides of business. Floozy looks on girls is what a boss
blames. Making it rational; a rape charge. Hand a judge some papes then it's
restart.

Bet you flinch, a lotta venom on my flex side; spiffing it to vex top dawgs like that!

Verse 3:

A phoenix rising up; perpetual powers now in its eyes.
Starts stoking fire, smoke toxicate horizon. Just a vision.
Scenarios afflict imagination. A super power birth based on
half the population; case closed for the slow pacing.

Fuck vivid; picturesque elite, y'all witnessing artistic elevation.
Dynasties I paint them blood red; phlegm steady touching all my wounds
inside my gullet; symbolize the wise who run them. Then I spit!.

j vimeo.com/89805827

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