Soul Food (A Hip Hop Duet With Boiwundah/Funky Town Pros)

Lyrics

[Intro] Probably the most important thing I'll say To you youngsters all evening is what I'm fixing to say to you now And that is simply- [Verse 1: Boiwundah] Godly put with the poet with the soul food D E F Jef In common with wonder cause I'm in a mind binder My people got it together But they forgot where they put it The rap thoroughbred and the rhyme drum dropper Salt on the slug is what we giving you a drop of So keep it moving, sit between the grooves and Ride the record till the needle cuts yo' head off [Verse 2: Def Jef] Soul food to feed the inner need and the growing greed I breathe the mind and redefine the rhyme and lead the line Like a frontman, not a stuntman I don't take dives I just take five minutes to make live Records keep hungry hip hoppers healthy and well-fed Lyrics well said, styles are years ahead Like Egyptian inscriptions to be specific hieroglyphics On walls of pyramids black man power lifted Scientific? Yeah I got stacks of facts and dope tracks and Hootie Macks So light it, relaxed You've been fed bull, your head's full of additives and preservatives And that makes your lip service nervous and conservative So I'm servin' this Soul Food platter with a big beat Dope rhyme schemes not ham hocks, greens, or pig feet No swinin' and dinin', just timin' and rhymin' The rhythm is rollin, I'm holdin', the crowd in control And I'm giving them soul and spirit and lyrics you hear it You get inspired or get in the mood to write a rhyme Or bite a line of this Soul Food [Interlude] Fatbacks and collard greens That's what's been told Do you really understand what we talkin' bout'? Do you really understand what we talkin' bout'? [Verse 3: Boiwundah] The mic's my reality dagger Stick the sucker, he'll stagger Fall to the ground Make sure he ain't brown Now look at the hellbound drowned Body funkytown Founder I be bustin' heads like walnuts But all cuts come from Dev on the kick drum Cymbal snare drum samples and horns Soon as he gets warm I get on stage and know we're gonna perform A self-seminar My thoughts torment My mind's my mentor Landscapes outdoor, mentally we're indoor Our mission is often missed To reincarnate a wish To say we living like a piano that ain't the realest Harmony never dawned on me Communication a large technicality Segregation, reality Love and peace analogy Truth, my artillery To obey is the big law Then what's the jigsaw? Our numbers are going down Yo, I don't dig y'all In the bright house Trying to save the white mouse Killed the rodent That's bold and cruel Pale attitude to unload on a black dude Then pick up a tool and wanna' try our soul food Ingredients is bits And pieces of late Releases mixed Put on a table so our own kind can eat this I need to feed this I gots' to teach this To the young and hungry that need this You can't define me You're scared to sign me You'd rather pick up those who are left behind me So many are parachuting from my altitude They just can't digest my soul food [Interlude] Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh Let me tell you something before we leave real- [Verse 4: Def Jef] I keep my brain fed With soul food knowledge So I don't end up brain dead My mind stays opened up To everything from poetry to current events What works against me So I know what I'm up against And when they ask the purpose of the plan I plan to pull off I reply with a plate o' soul food They get full off Funkin with funkytown pros They some down bros Mixed with the poet of soul And the sound goal That shows the power of the black collective mind Connecting lines to form effective rhymes (huh) It's a sign of the times when the kings meet Let the truth be told in its whole You been led down the yellow brick road too long And those lies about your people they've been told too long How you know that Adam and Eve ain't a fable You said you don't give a damn, but you don't look like Clark Gable You ain't stable or able to stand in this land on yo' lonesome Till' you own some So if you're in the mood to be taught Cop a squat and bust a poet with soul Food for thought [Outro] They got more in the ghettos than this thing called soul Fatbacks and collard greens, that's what's been told Do you really understand what we talkin' 'bout?