Microphone Check: Rhythm  Flow
Saafir’s lack of a discernible flow pattern may raise many eyebrows in a hip-hop world seemingly governed by a book of Do’s and Don’ts. His deubt, The Boxcar Sessions, caused me, a loyal Harlemite, true to New York, to question my coastal biases, and admit that I could not front. His style is as lossely formed as a silhouette, as hard-to-catch as cult movie references. After a stunning display of lyrical virtuosity on Casual’s debut, Fear Itself, and another impressive perfomance on Digital Underground’s The Body Hat Syndrome, Saafir emerges with his own album. After nine years of lyrical training, he leaves Oakland and embarks on a cross country tour across the hip-hop nation. With his crew, the Hobo Junction, taking his back, he is ready to catch hip-hop off guard. Over lunch, we discussed what makes him tick.

[THE SOURCE:] When did you start, man?
[Saafir:] I’ve been rhyming since I was fourteen. I heard “I Need A Beat” by LL Cool J while I was in jail.

For what?
Attempted murder. I had saved up all my money for three weeks—for these pants—while I was in a group home. And some muthafucka stole them. I asked him to give them back and he fronted like they were his. So I tried to poison him by putting Clorox in his coffee and rat poison in his food. Psychiatrists thought I was crazy. . . emotionally disturbed. . . but I wasn’t. Just hella mad. But while I was in [jail] I heard “I Need A Beat” and it drove me crazy. I started writing and never stopped. The writing did something for me. To write something tight made me feel like I was the shit. But I would never say that to anybody. Now I write about me and criticism other muthafuckas say about people. I peep the shit about them that bothers me and I write about it. I try to be more optimistic instead of saying mental: more visual than deep. . . but with just as much substance.

What do you flow on when it comes to lyrics now?
Rhythm. I see images in my head and I copy them in rhymes. . . getting concepts from humor and pain. It’s all about imagination: slow it down like a washing machine or speed it up to a spiral. I’m not gonna follow a pattern oof beat, I’m gonna follow a pattern off my mind. . . like the way Volume 10 does. You can’t catch his patterns at all. That’s how you know a rhymes is a Titan.

Let’s talk about your debut album and the many different messages you send out.
The ‘messages’ that I’m giving on this album is. . . ‘fuck you’ [laughter]. . . Because I know nobody is going to understand it. And those who do, is one love, see? I’m dissing certain muthafuckas on this album subliminally: complaining about shit, being silly at times. . . also, it’s about different moods, feelings that eventually grow like fungus and encase you. If you listen. I like to make muthafuckas think.

What made you think of writing “Worship The Dick”?
These two particular females who wanted to have a threesome. They had my picture up on an altar practicing witchcraft and fucking each other. . . which actually turned me on. Thinking that it was kind of ill, I sat in on it and wrote the rhyme

You like sex?
Oh yeah! But I’m not splurged. I don’t get around like 2Pac. I focus on my writing. I’m focused on making beats; on making sure my crew gets hooked; on my family here and not here. But I am a sensuous, animated person. I kinda subdue a lot of that passion coming tight with a rhyme. But I do like to fuck though. I got it bad.

Everybody is on some “real” shit. What’s your opinion on this?
What’s real? This world is real because somebody else’s reality made it real. You see? They say God made this world and that’s true: but a lot of people don’t feel that way. That’s reality. Real is how you feel. Real is not a statement you say so someone could relate to it. To a certain extent, you don’t let somebody know how you feel. ‘Cause it might be too strong and everybody has some insecurity. Feeling is only inner. I’m not real. I’m ‘inner’.
How would you describe yourself?
I consider myself a ho of hip-hop. Industry ho. I’m an outlaw ho. I don’t have a pimp.

What?
In the game of pimps and hoes you have those who are outlaw and those who have a “man.” Being that I’m not insecure about my manhood, I’m working really for nothing, I’m trying to make people see me. . . feel me. While I have to rely on people in the industry-as-a-whole, I’m a ho. Until I get my own shit. I can’t get my shit right now because of politics and egos.

What’s in your future, Saafir?
The future holds promise. That’s all it ever holds. I just hope my promise never gets broken. It’s uncertain because I’m not really sure where my shit is going to go, how people are going to take it. . . not beign able to catch my style. I want to be a little more stable on how I’m gonna come next year because I’ll know from experience how people hear shit. But I won’t be compromised. Fuck that. I’ll become a subject matter to fit more of what they’re listening to, but I’m gonna stick to my sporadic patterns of telling ill stories.

Do you imagine yourself doing this when you’re old and grey?
I’m not gonna ever stop writing rhymes. I might stop at my consistency as far as writing every day. I’ll be fifty years old, writing with deepness, doing spoken word albums and people will buy that shit. I’ll look for five dope ass rhymers with the most illest styles to rip some cuts on it. But I got to have power like Quincy to do that, so I got make some mad loot. Other than that, my plans for now are to stay true to the game, be a man, take care of my daughter and not sell out.