Lyrics

[Verse] It was a boring dystopia, hopeless, outlook parochial Odious held down by hostilities and phobias Insiders aren't always the best guides, sorry Insecticides it wasn't like The West Side Story Innocence, in a sense, it started with markings Territorial, memorial, editorial, primordial Possibilities, facilities, broke, artillery smoke Graph was like a reverse invisibility cloak Individual visual expression, wild swirls, immortality The seven mile world was a gallery Analogies, a mirror complete with еrrors and misspellings Piss smelling tumors, truth tellеrs dispelling rumors Robbers, and cops, lost focus Robert Moses, enormous failure occurred Sure word to Norman Mailer, he got it No hope, No chance, No wealth The writing on the wall's an advertisement for yourself He knew what we were up to, the code that we stuck to In the early days, every expression was "F**k you" Deserted like the Sahara, this was the era of the outlaw dance No cap, no capoeira Throwback, no class, in fact, no academies Advanced tragedies, savagely expanded dance strategies Pageantry, persistence like pistons Listen honcho, big shots and such got punched out like Piston Hondo, it's not pretty in the onslaught, some got shot in a hot flash Solution? Dot dot diddy dot dot dash Say no to disco, the break psychs and excites It enriches, I'm hitting switches like Mike with the lights Check it, no wack sounds My background is checkered with angel dust Listen to me is a dangerous record The breakdown part two? Dangerous record Do you wanna see it? No you don't, I guarantee it Don't rock the freakin' boat, a few bucks to stay afloat Outta luck punks got stuck up for the sheepskin coat Champs became mascots in the day before Blackwatch Came the Brothers Disco and the Mighty Mighty Sasquatch Pullin' the masks off your camp versus our camp Ramshackle DJs devoured by the power amp Out of the garbage cans the beauty of it shines through Casanovas all over or the Nine Crew behind you The skies grew dark from deep to instant shallow Crazy Legs saved hip hop but some say Vincent Gallo Locations and contingents hallowed and consecrated With good cause, the applause is focused and concentrated Legacies are complicated, trophies are polished and varnished Statues of living gods demolished and tarnished Or worse; scriptures and verse both sacred oaths and credos The words become blurred with agendas and egos Every player in the league knows there's layers, it's disappointing We used to crown queens, now who does the anointing? It's all fingers pointing the stink lingers, past fumbled Sound station fell silent as the foundation crumbled Positions abandoned and militias become mechanized Guerrilla groups expand faster and grandmasters go unrecognized Priceless, there's a hunger crisis, we need Oxfam Marley's the man, but what about Roxanne? Passions inflamed, we need rations and pig meat UTFOs flying over the big beat The stories of categories that we may share Theodore's a king and so is DJ Flare No limits on museum exhibits for show and tell Dj Premier's a king sure, but so is Jel And naysayers go to hell. Samurai and Shogun Flash is a grandmaster, agreed. But so is Jorun Sound the alarms, lick shots, and let the bells ring And by the way, I did not like that Eminem Melle Mel thing I did not like that Top to bottom, through and through And yo, maybe this shit means nothing to you But it means everything to me