Artist(s): Dirt
Song: Phat Cat
Word Count: 402
Soundscape: evolvE
Recorded: Parable’s Old Bedroom (Home studio)
Album: Heavy Manners (iTunes release 2006)

Dirts favorite Line(s): ‘He trades his talents for bullets’, ‘Some Gangstas will sell their soul for cash/ they like to look at the bling of a ring, body in a trash/ found there after getting stuck for the stash’, (Kenny G.) ‘I’m sincere.’


I have a top 10 list of personal favorites. Phat Cat will probably always be in that list. Few songs actually have as much history as this one. Few songs came out as good as this one.
Back when I was recording for the ‘Plague’ album (1997), I had these lyrics of a fully completed song about a cat personified as a gangster. The words were simple but very relevant. I had recorded most of the tracks for the album on my weekend trip to Hollywood but, if I remember correctly, the beat for Phat Cat wasn’t done yet so I had to wait until I returned to San Diego to record it. My idea was to sample Bob Marley’s intro to ‘Burning and Looting’, and Bill (DJ Fingaz, who produced most of the album) got on it when I returned to town. The sounds came out well and the track was ready to roll. Back home, Rescue Records set me up to record all the ‘tag team’ songs with 7-Lock. It was at this time that we planned to take care of Phat Cat.
During the next few weeks that I was going to this home studio recording, sequencing and mixing the Hollywood sessions, Fingaz was in a heated debate with the record label about his contract between himself, them and the album. I aint gonna go into details, because I was caught in the middle and I was friends with both conflicting sides. All I know is that Fingaz had desires the label wasn’t willing to fulfill. Eventually, Rescue Records acted out of a need to protect their investment in the ‘Plague’ album. In the middle of one of our mixing sessions, label representatives came and let my producer know that he was fired (one of the funniest ‘mafia’ stories I could tell you about Rueben Torres, Whoppers with cheese, and Frankie).
This incident left me without an engineer and stripped me of the opportunity to finish the Phat Cat song for the Plague album. In most ways it also pillaged my relationships with, both, Fingaz and the Label. Bill was upset and went on to other things, and the stress levels got real high at the label, with no solid engineer to mix the album.
I was very heavyhearted about not being able to add the song to my first album, and as the years went by the whole thing slipped further and further into the back of my notebook until I had completely forgot about it. Sometimes I would come across it scribbled in old volumes of rhymes and I would pause for a second, wondering what the track would have sounded like if it ever had got done. Eventually the curiosity died as I embraced the fact that Phat Cat was a thing of the past, creativity wasted.

While I was out in Chicago with Danny I remember that there was a night midway through our work where he literally asked me, “Well, what else you got in there?”, referring to the Palm Pilot that all my old Rhyme Pages had been transferred too. We had enough solid ideas that were being worked on, but there was definitely a desire to get all the cards onto the table, to understand our full options.
“Nope. I don’t think there’s anything else”, I doubted.
I spent the next few minutes scanning through a bunch of older ideas. When I came across Phat Cat, I found myself pausing like so many times of old, speculating, questioning, wondering. I probably even gave Danny a sly look as seen on the face of Indiana Jones.
“Wait, there’s this one, but…”, a dramatic pause followed.
“But what?”
“Naw, It’s old school. The words are all outdated.”
I told the timeless tale of the feline who fell away to the wayside. Lost forever through the cracks of time and ill circumstances.
“So…why don’t you just update the lyrics?” (I love Danny…he’s my mariposa!)
I was truly excited! You’re right! I can just update the lyrics! We went through a couple of debates on whether we should recycle my old ‘Burning and Looting’ idea. Even though the thought and concept was mine, Fingaz had actually put the original beat together (my idea, his equipment to do it). Out of no disrespect to Bill, I was OK with it, and Danny and I went at it immediately.
I spent a few days going through what was formerly written and started refining and renewing. The process didn’t take long at all and my enthusiasm was peaking when I got to sit with Danny and chop up the music together. For so long I had dismissed the idea of ever doing this track. Now, the more we cultivated it, the more my faith was renewed in the original idea. It was coming together nicely.
The final product was amazing. So many people I had sent the new tracks to for preview, had picked Phat Cat as a favorite. I was so encouraged by the fact that something that had died in the antiquities of my notebook, could still be heard as a refreshing and new sound 7 years later.

I will leave you with a final interesting sidestory.
There is a voice sample that comes in to intro the song and again at the end. These samples were taken from video footage of me talking to a homeless guy in downtown Chicago. We had all went out there to perform at a local college show. Afterwards, after eating, I was ‘inspired’ to take a handful of straws from the restaurant, and pass them out on the street as free gifts. I remember feeling really awkward about doing this, but something inside was tugging at me. I am a unique individual, an artist with unusually tuned ears, and sometimes I up and do something strange like that.
There were about 25 of us together walking down the street on a crowded weekend night and I was yelling, “Free straws! Free straws! Free like just like the gift of God!”
Some people took the straws, and others saw an insane man heralding down the street raucous and obnoxious. Needless to say, most of the crew we had, except Danny who loves my quirky nature, had slowed so that they were walking well behind us.
As we neared our cars, a man that had took one of my straws started following us. He was obviously homeless. He walked in a stooped and drunken sway. Half of his mind and body had been lost to the ravages of serious alcohol abuse and a lack of love. At first he asked for money, all I had was a straw, which I handed him and reminded him that God loves him. We began talking as we walked. His name was Kenny G. (so he said), and he was an angel.
When the others noticed that this guy was walking with Danny and I, they began to catch up, vying for a spot to the show. They probably figured I was gonna do something weird and they didn’t want to miss it. Little did we all know that God was going to be the true performer on the street that night.
Kenny and I talked about a lot of things. At first it was hard for me, because I have always detested derelict street people. I work very hard to maintain my family and lifestyle, only to be considered ‘homeless’ by appearance when I am in a lot of public situations. Plus I have always, superficially, put all these kind of people in one ‘Bum’ box, disregarding their situations, hurts or pains. But the same tugging that convinced me to take up the straws, convicted me and reminded me that Kenny is a human being too.
Our conversation went on for a while until I finally asked Kenny, “Has God done any healing in your life?”
“Yeah, he saved me from bullet wounds.”
“Bullet wounds?”, I could feel the eyes of all those with us centered on the conversation, anticipating the divine or the perverse, knowing not what would come next, but knowing it would be influential.
I wanted a miracle too, but I played the devil’s advocate, “Now some people will say that’s hard to believe.”
Anybody who was there can support what I’m saying, but suddenly this man who had been sloppy, drunk and half incoherent the whole time we knew him, straightened his drooping back, sobered his countenance and with the utmost conviction, said, “I’m sincere.”
For that small second Kenny’s whole face radiated, the crusted and dried saliva that had settled around his lips was gone. The bags of flesh that hung below his red, dry, vein ridden eyes had faded. Even the horrible odor emitting from this unbathed man seemed to have disappeared. Whatever sins he had transgressed or had been transgressed upon him, vanished away, hiding from the providence of God. At some time, somewhere, a bullet had entered Kenny’s body and threatened his life, but a heavenly hand put a stop to its death, and I believe that with all my heart.
On second thought, I know exactly why Phat Cat never happened back in 1997: because it wouldn’t have been complete without Kenny, the Saint of Pavements.
This track was remixed by DJ Theatre for the ‘Upsetter Mixtape’, 2009







PHAT CAT
TWO LITTLE CATS ON HE STREET, IT DON’T MATTER
UNTIL THE LUST OF MATERIALS MAKES ONE WANT MORE
WITH NO LOOT TO FUND HIS APPETITE, HE GOES THE GUN ROUTE
HE TRADES HIS TALENT FOR BULLETS AND SHOOTS EVERYBODY OUT
HE WANTS TO BE LEADER OF THE PACK
AND IN HIS SCHEME TO GET IT, HE STEPS ON EVERYBODY’S BACK
AND ALL THE OTHER GANGSTA KITTIES
ARE MYSTERIOUSLY TURNING UP DEAD IN THE CITY
HE STARTED OFF WITH GUN YEILDIN'
BUT SOON TURNED HIS GAME TO DRUG DEALIN'
WHICH BOTH END IN KILLIN'
BUT HE DON'T CARE BECAUSE HE'S GETTIN' TOP BILLIN'
EARLY SUNDAY HE’S SMUGGLIN SIN MEDICINE
DOWN AT THE BAY AT SEVEN O'CLOCK
CHEWIN ON CATNIP, WAITING FOR A BOAT TO DOCK
HE BROUGHT A SUITCASE OF MONEY FOR THE SHIPMENT
OF ILLEGAL PHARMECUETICALS IS IN WORLDLY UPLIFTMENT
HE PACKAGES THIS IN NICKELS AND DIMES
THEN SELLS IT QUICK TO WHITE COLLAR AND POVERTIZED FELINES
AND IT DOESN’T BOTHER HIM THAT THEY ALL ADDICTED
TO CRIMINLA AND ILLICIT NARCOTICS BECAUSE OF HIM
THIS CAT'S SITTIN' ON HIS STACKS
HE PAYS FEMALE KITTENS TO RUB ON HIS BACK
AND AT HIS PAD HE CRAPS ON GOLD CAT LITTER
HANGIN' OUT WITH STARS AND EATIN FISH FOR DINNER
HE LEFT A PACK OF STRAYS IN THE GHETTO RUNNIN RED HOT
CUASE IN THE MIDDLE OF THEIR HEART, THEY ALL WANT WHAT HE GOT
ONE OF THEM MAKES PLANS TO STICK HIS EXTERIOR
WITH A KNIFE SO HE CAN OVERTAKE THE TRAFFIC IN A SUPERIOR
CHESS MOVE, SO HE SETS UP THE CONSPIRACY
THEN PUTS WEAPONS IN HIS JACKET, AND HIDES IN THE ALLEY
PHAT CAT DID NOT ARRIVE HIMSELF
HE BROUGHT SQUADS OF BODYGUARDS TO PROTECT HIS HEALTH
THEY ALL WANT TO REACH THE TOP REAL QUICKLY
BUT IN THE END ALL THEY EVER DO IS MAKE THE DOGS HAPPY
REAL FAST, SOME GANGSTA’S WILL SELL THEIR SOUL FOR CASH
THEY LIKE TO LOOK AT THE BLING OF A RING, BODY IN THE TRASH
FOUND THERE, AFTER GETTING STUCK FOR THE STASH
VIOLENCE SPREADS THROUGHOUT MEN LIKE VENERIAL RASH

V.2
ASK ABOUT GOD THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT
THEM CATS ONLY CARE ABOUT MAKIN THEY CASH
EARNIN RESPECT IN INFAMOUS WAYS
FINDIN' NEW TECHNIQUES TO MAKE CRIME PAY
WHAT YOU DO WILL COME BACK ON YOU
WHETHER YOU ACT HOT OR WHETHER YOU ACT COOL
WE ALL GOT TO LIVE BY SOME RULES.........




PHAT CAT
(compare: the 1995 original lyrics)
BIG CAT, LITTLE CAT IT DON'T MATTER
BUT ONE OF THESE CATS HE WANTED TO BE PHATTER
HE DECIDED TO GO THE GUN ROUTE
SO HE BOUGHT SOME BULLETS AND SHOT EVERYBODY OUT
HE WANTS TO BE THE DON OF THE CLAN
SO HE PLOTS HIS COURSE AND STEPS ON ALL MAN
AND ALL THE OTHER GANGSTA KITTIES
ARE MYSTERIOUSLY TURNING UP DEAD IN THE CITY
HE STARTED OFF WITH GUN YEILDIN'
BUT SOON TURNED HIS GAME TO DRUG DEALIN'
WHICH BOTH END IN KILLIN'
BUT HE DON'T CARE BECAUSE HE'S GETTIN' TOP BILLIN'
EARLY SUNDAY MORNIN' HE'S GANJA SMUGGLIN
DOWN AT THE BAY AT SEVEN O'CLOCK
PHAT CAT IS WAITIN' FOR HIS SHIP TO DOCK
AND WHAT'S IN THE SHIPMENT
CRACK AND 'JANE FOR WORLDLY UPLIFTMENT
HE SELLS SUBSTANCE OF SWINE
TO THE WHITE COLLAR AND THE GHETTO FELINE
AND HE DON'T CARE THAT THEY ALL ADDICTED
TO SATANS DEVICES BECAUSE OF HIM
THIS CAT'S SITTIN' ON HIS STACKS
HE PAYS FEMALE CATS TO RUB ON HIS BACK
AND AT HIS PAD HE GOT GOLD CAT LITTER
HANGIN' OUT WITH STARS AND EATIN FISH FOR DINNER
NOW HE'S SUPERCAT SCREAMIN'
"SCALP DEM, SCALP DEM AND HANG DEM UP HIGH"
THE KITTENS IN THE GHETTO ARE RUNNIN' RED HOT
BECAUSE THEY ALL WANT WHAT HE GOT
THEY PLAN TO STICK HIS EXTERIOR
SO THEY CAN TAKE HIS JUICE AND THEN BE SUPERIOR
SO THEY SET UP THE CONSPIRACY
HIDE IN THE SHADOWS OF THE DUNGEON IN THE ALLEY
PHAT CAT DID NOT ARRIVE HIMSELF
HE BROUGHT SQUADS OF BODYGUARDS TO PROTECT HIS HEALTH
THEY ALL WANT TO REACH THE TOP REAL QUICKLY
BUT ALL THEY DID WAS MAKE THE DOGS HAPPY
WHAT'S THE PURPOSE OF A CAT TO GAIN EVERYTHING BUT LOSE
HIS SOUL......
THE MORAL OF THE STORY IS SIMPLE SON
VIOLENCE BRINGS ON VIOLENCE AND ENDS IN DESTRUCTION


V.2
ASK ABOUT GOD THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT
THEM CATS ONLY CARE ABOUT MAKIN' THEY CASH
EARNIN' RESPECT IN INFAMOUS WAYS
FINDIN' NEW TECHNIQUES TO MAKE CRIME PAY
WHAT YOU DO WILL COME BACK ON YOU
WHETHER YOU ACT HOT OR WHETHER YOU ACT COOL
WE ALL GOT TO LIVE BY SOME RULES.........

THE LANGUAGE THAT WE SPEAK IS JUST NOT CLEAR
I SEE GUNS OVER THERE, I SEE GUNS OVER HERE
GUN-TALK IS VIOLENT COMPREHENSION
IT BEGINS WITH CONFLICT AND ENDS WITH DEAD KITTENS
THE WAY OF THE GUN AIN'T A WAY TO BE
SIX MILLION WAYS TO DIE AND ONLY ONE TO BE FREE....

PHAT CAT MAKE THEM STACKS------PHAT CAT GETS KILLED LIKE THAT