[scratched: "Hip Hop"]


[J-Live]

MC's out there, head down and listen here

It's J-Live and I brought Premier

And the crowd don't +Hush+ no more they say yeah

Hell yeah! With they hands up like they don't care

True school styles light up the night like Times Square

GZA said it, this is not a eighty-five affair

It's the grand openin of a long career

That's been, planned and developed for about ten years

Let the scene blur out; selector, press rewind

Just to show 'em who flat top groove in eighty-nine

Thirteen, still lacking b-ball skills to shine

but I got mine when I went home to write rhymes

Mastered all possible tactics of pause mix

Saved up - got my first Gemini starter kit

Like Rocky - these hands train on the cheap shit

So every other DJ they was bound to skip

Meanwhile now, for every new joint I caught

My MC style developed at the speed of thought

So hip-hop was the vessel that convinced my heart

Space and time make today's sun, tommorow's star; The Best Part


[Chorus: scratched]

"Like this in the place y'all; it's like this y'all, ya don't stop"

"I make it happen" ... "On the mic"

"Do things for the kids" -> Prodigy

"Like this in the place y'all; it's like this y'all, ya don't stop"

"I make it happen" ... "On the mic"

"God Bless the child that can write his own rhymes"


[J-Live]

Ten years, ten crates and ten rhyme books later

My history, daily renewed on it's equator

Supreme mathematics is now the translator

As the stakes and the skills and the love became greater

For a artform to spread from East to Westside

The coast the hemisphere, look how hip-hop grew

But it's still the proverbial sad clown of music

Exploited by many, understood by few

I do the knowledge to the game from a bird's eye view

If I ain't have the stomach for it I'd have been passed through

Cause every level I examined from A&R to zigga zigga

prove a MC ain't got a God damn clue

So let the babies be great, break down the bare essence

and build upon styles that's dope and brand new

Let no man put asunder to what the Bronx create

Manhattan make, Brooklyn take, and peace to Queens too

Cause the strength of any nation always been the babies

Let 'em learn from the elders that was strong and smart

So hip-hop'll be the music that still don't quit

When the next batch of MC's prove to be; The Best Part


[Chorus: cuts after 2/3rds]


[J-Live]

Yo, yo, turn the music down, turn the music down

We gonna end it like this in the place y'all

It's like this y'all, and you don't stop


[with hand clap only, no instrumental]

Aiyyo; East to West I'm a contender with the best

And more or less you're a pretender just confess

Sell your mic and buy a bike because you're weak

And take a hike when the J-Live starts to speak

Save that shit for the toilet and watch me flush

My style's a snow blizzard, yours is just the slush

My rhyme's a redwood tree, and you're just sawdust

I'm like a pizza, and sheeit you're just the crust


[instrumental kicks back in]

So now you see the place I've been is the place I'm at

Dig up a seventh grade rhyme style and bring it back

So when you write your first rhyme tell me how you feel

Cause back then we wasn't thinkin 'bout a record deal

But now adays when a kid wanna MC

It's like just another job in the industry

So why you in it, for the pocket or the heart

Cause today's star gotta be tommrow's sun; The Best Part


[Chorus: repeat to fade]