What is Dekonstruktivism?

WELCOME to the MUSE's WORKSHOP. please, take off your shoes and shut the door, you lettin' spies in...

(Click here to listen to the spoken word remix of Lil Wayne's A Milli by Flow)

Dekonstruktivism is a poetic response to the lyrics of a rap song. It's not intended to be judgmental but it may sound that way. The real objective is to create a dialogue between texts. By looking at the lyrics of a work, history, both authors' biographies, current trends and influences my hope is to pan the message--to reveal some of the layers that give content to the place one arrives at the end of the song, the understanding one has of what the work means to them or can mean for others.

Lil Wayne says:

I'm a Millionaire,
I'm a Young Money Millionaire, tougher than Nigerian hair,
My criteria compared to your career just isnt fair,
I'm a venereal disease like a menstrual bleed...
Threw the pencil and leak the sheet of the tablet in my mind,
Cause I don't write shit cause I ain't got time,
Cause my seconds, minutes, hours go to the almighty dollar,
And the almighty power of dat cha cha cha cha chopper,
Sister, Brother, Son, Daughter, Father motha f**k a copper,
Got da maserati dancin on the bridge pussy poppin,
Tell the coppers... hahahaha you can't catch em, you can't stop em,
I go by them goon rules
If you can't beat em then you prop em,
You can't man em then you mop em,
You can't stand em then you drop em,
You pop em cause we pop em like Orville Redenbacher,

[Verse 2:]
A million here a million there
Sicilian bitch with long hair with coke in her dariaire
Like smokin the thinest air I open the Lamborghini
Hopin them crackers see me like look at dat bastard Weezy
Hes a beast hes, a dog hes, a muthfukin problem
Ok your a goon but what's a goon to a goblin
Nothin nothin you ain't scarin nothin
On some faggot bullshit call em dennis rodman
Call me what you want bitch call me on my Sidekick
Never answer when it's private damn I hate a shy Bitch
Don't u hate a shy bitch yea I ate a shy bitch
And she ain't shy nomore she changed her name to My bitch
Yea nigga that's my bitch so when she ask for the Money when you through don't be surprised bitch
It ain't trickin if u got it
But u like a bitch with no ass u ain't got shit
Muthafuka I'm ill not sick
And I'm ok but my watch sick
Yea my drop sick
Yea my glock sick
And my knot thick
Im it

Muthafuka I'm ill...

[Verse 3:]
They say I'm rappin like BIG, jay, and tupac
Andre 3000 where is eryka badu at
Who dat
Who dat said dey gon beat lil wayne
My name ain't Bic but I keep dat flame man
Who dat one dat do dat boy ya knew dat tru da Swallow
And I be da shit now u got loose bowels
I don't O U like two vowels
But I would like for u to pay me by the hOUr
And I'd rather be pushin flowers
Then to be in the pen sharin showers
Tony told us this world was ours
And the bible told us every girl was sour
Don't play in her garden and don't smell her flower
Call me Mr. Carter or Mr. Lawn Mower
Boy I got so many bitches like I'm Mike Lowry
Even Gwen Stefani said she could'nt doubt me
Muthafuka I say life ain't shit without me
Chrome lips pokin out the coupe look like it's poutin
I do what I do and u do what u can do about it
Bitch I can turn a crack rock into a mountian
Dare me
Don't u compare me cause there ain't nobody near me They don't see but they hear me
They don't feel me but they fear me I'm illi

I say:
A million women raped
A million phone calls taped
A million kids want bathing apes instead of birthday cakes
A million birthday cakes might make a million days for a million different kids a million miles away in a million different ways
A million dollars aint shit for the millions of Bernie Madoffs who get a million breaks while a million mamas take 30 minute breaks and together work a million hours at less than 15 dollars an hour
A million times I prayed for Ed McMahon and that million dollar knock on my door in my apartment complex with a million families
Call it the projects
a million dollar project
A milli mic check


Hallelujah
Jesus
Pull me to the drum and release my body to the beat in my legs
THROB
and give up the ghost of my brothers and me
tip toeing through the madness like ballerinas in a ghetto fabulous production of mother goose's rhymes
Grandma lived next to the old lady with eight kids and nine baby daddies
one extra for the son or daughter she aborted in the name of love or pro choice that wasn't even an option for her cracked up belly
rappers become dancers
cultural ambassadors employed by the music industrial complex
choreographing the ghetto and teaching the world how to move
some say they hood heroes
others remixed electronic new negroes
produced and possessed so far to the core that their bodies are schizophrenic
jumping into video reels for quick feels and tip drills
sprawled across rented cadillacs and borrowed bentleys like slain lions in african safari journals
i ask
wouldn't you rock it too if the tough got going after you?
seeking you out like the Nothing
rolling through your neighborhood
not even hiding behind the bushes but waiting for you behind your front door like the drama in your living room ready to cast you in your own demise?
and then there's the pot of lies
luring all the neighborhood kids
negro rigged 'em to the pledge
hot from the center of their heads to that fine line between code blue and code red
The swollen left nipple of God is committed to feeding you so
nod if you're hungry
and holla if your hear me
and line up for a sip
Because the books are closing the teachers are going home and the police are going to war with more than enough bullets against the knuckle head students
Boys who love crunk
hotwire rockets and blast off into space in search of stealth blimps and rogue alien boo boos in the back of cadillacs with the music turned up and the blunts passing
They are their own super heroes
Left with no heroes in the free world
They recreate the streets in the classroom and turn their backs on the classroom for the streets
The living ain't easy but it beats getting beat
Weed math is indiscreet
12 agg do half plus three and a milli be free like birds that don't sing in cages with no bars
posted
chillin
A milli dealin'
A milli fiendin'
A milli hoping
A milli dreaming.