FUSE TV - 19 Amazing Lyrics on 'Eat Pray Thug,' Heems' Post-Das Racist Solo LP

American rap is black and—sometimes—white. Seems like it, anyway, even surveying the game with a wide eye. But Heems is brown, and he's about that. And about being depressed, and on top of the world—feeling like Drake one second and dirt the next. He's a 29-year-old Wesleyan graduate born to Punjabi Indian parents in Queens, New York. He's been a hip hop player for seven years, first as one of the rapping halves of Das Racist (2008-2012, R.I.P.), then as the man behind the Nehru Jackets and Wild Water Kingdom mixtapes.

His solo label debut, the deliriously titled Eat Pray Thug, is out this week. It's a medium-size miracle for Himanshu Kumar Suri—the record's been hyped and delayed and endangered for more than a year. Recorded in three days in Bombay, part of a self-imposed exile from the U.S., the 11-song set contains multitudes on multitudes. It's a self-portrait with the Twin Towers burning in the background, a document about one of the most traumatizing and racially and religiously charged tragedies of our time. 

But Heems still knows how to make us laugh, hard, even when he's making us cry four times in 40 minutes. (Shoutout to "Home," with a deft assist from Blood Orange maestro Dev Hynes.) He swivels between feeling like his career's already over and like he's a king about to grab his crown. He straddles an identity divide where it's not even clear what's on each side, or how many sides there are. We could go on and on, but we'd rather throw to the poet, the prankster, the musician we can't afford not to pay attention to anymore. Eat Pray Thug is available on iTunes, on vinyl, and as a stream on NPR. Here are 19 of the sharpest lyrics.

From "Sometimes":
I can write, I do rap, I should care but won't
I'm too rock, I'm too rap, I won't change, I'm dope

From "Flag Shopping":
They want a shorter version, they want a nickname
They wanna Toby us, like we Kunta Kinte

From "Flag Shopping":
We're going flag shopping for American flags 
They're staring at our turbans, they're calling them rags
They're calling them towels, they're calling them diapers
They're more like crowns; let's strike them like vipers