Rapper Alex "Rube" Rubin Tells David Stern to End the Mother$#*%ing NBA Lockout

​NBA commissioner David Stern may be the most hated man in Miami these days. After all, the lockout means that us Heat fans have been trying to scrub the shitty aftertaste of that catastrophuck of a final out of our mouths for five long months.

Luckily, a local rapper has given us the musical version of a big ol' Monday-morning David Stern dick punch.

"Dear Mr. Owns-the-Team man/Why you actin' like a corrupt policeman?" raps Alex Rubin. "You makin' money and don't tell no one/Then pretend that your profit is low, son."

Check out the video and full lyrics below.

Rubin, 28, goes by the rap name "Rube." His website describes him as a "skinny white Jewish kid from right outside of Chicago."

He moved to Miami in 2006 after graduating from college. Rubin now works in the events department of a prominent Latin American business magazine -- he won't say which one because his boss is British and "doesn't like cuss words" -- and calls his aspiring rap career a "secret."

"In my day job, I have to keep a very corporate and straight image," he says. "But at nighttime, that's when the fun starts."

In this case, the fun is a 3:47 song blasting Stern for not giving into players' demands for a greater share of NBA revenue. Pissed about his basketball-less evenings, Rubin stayed up late on his balcony overlooking Brickell, scribbling invective against the stingy Stern.

Last week, with lockout negotiations coming down to the wire, he decided it was time to release his "NBA Lockout Anthem." He partnered with local producer Chozen and a friend in California to put this video together, uploading it to YouTube on Saturday.

"I want David Stern to hear this, that's my objective," Rubin explains. "Then he'll realize that this message [to end the lockout] is one million strong."

He says it's about time that someone stood up for the players. "The owners have been controlling the message the whole time," Rubin says. "It's bullshit. This is not a factory where you can swap in other workers and churn out the same stuff. The players are the product. They deserve as much money as they can get."

Despite siding with millionaire ballers, Rubin's anthem has a definite populist feel. These days, it's easier to sympathize with an out-of-work employee (even an ugly, championship-winning German like Dirk Nowitzki) than just about any owner.

Here are the full lyrics to Rubin's "NBA Lockout Anthem":

Dear Mr. Commissioner
You say you're just doing your job, so then what's the season missing for
You known about this thing since way back
Rewind to '99, why you wanna play that?
Man, you got problems, David
You got bigger problems, David
So why you talkin' 'bout the money owners payin', are you sayin'
We should cap the price of tickets to the game are you playin'?
Right now fans are getting laid off while the boss is paid off
We just wanna see our favorite player -- pay him!
Arenas, like our pockets, sittin' empty and you smilin' like you friendly
Say I shouldn't hold my breath for a deal
Motherfuckin' Stern, I thought you would've learned
From the last time that the consequence of this is real

Dear Mr. Owns-the-Team man
Why you actin' like a corrupt policeman?
You makin' money and don't tell no one
Then pretend that your profit is low, son
Man, you actin' shady, baby
You're too damn shady, baby
Tell me how come I lose my appetite and get short of breath
Every time that you come on TV
I turn the volume down, I don't wanna hear a sound
I'm pissed off at the way that you comin' at me
Tellin' me my team is on hold, man, it just got
And as the winter gets cold, your money just gon' drop
It's hard to say there's hardship when a garbage team gets flipped
For 500 million, man, you can't say shit

My middle finger to you all
I'm getting bored, can you wonder why?
Make you listen impossible, but I'm a fuckin try
Bitch, how you gon' tell me you wanna change the rules?
I thought the goal was the ring -- just let 'em lace they shoes
Instead you talkin' 'bout some hard cap, BRI
Money splittin' piece of pie
Each side wants the cash stackin' till it reach the sky
Owners need to stop bitchin'
You can protect yourselves from your own bad decisions
And your position is ironic
'Cause the players the ones bringin' you the product
You seem to think their talents are replaceable, be honest
Hey, you wanna make some money? Make a deal, give me
And the rest of the country something to see
But when I'm stuck watching reruns of Malcolm in the Middle
And World Series of Poker can you fathom just a little
The void that I feel and let it get filled
Then even if the boys come back, your money stands still

Rubin's next song may not be that big of a hit, however. At least not here. He says it's called "Heat Hater in Miami."

"I'm still a big Chicago Bulls fan," he admits. "I love Miami as a city. But I don't like the Miami Heat. Sorry."

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Michael E. Miller was a staff writer at Miami New Times for five years. His work for New Times won many national awards, including back-to-back-to-back Sigma Delta Chi medallions. He now covers local enterprise for the Washington Post.