It goes one for the B-Boys doing battles for the fans
And two for writers burning aerosol cans
And three for the DJ’s two records, scratching, blending
And four for the emcee whose rhymes are never ending
It’s bigger than the music and the music is called Rap
What they calling Hip-Hop, is just a trend called trap
And the name implies they cook in a kitchen with empty cupboards
But most these kids ain’t ever seen a life outside the suburbs
Doesn’t matter where you’re from but the youth are misdirected
And they talk about a life of which they have no real perspective
While lyrically it’s clear they’ve spent no time to build their craft up
By studying the greats and then comparing how they stack up
They quick to post a track up and hope the get a lot of likes
It takes more to an emcee than a laptop and mic
With every copy of a copy there’s diminished resolution
And Hip-Hop is not a music, it’s a fucking institution
​
​
If you take away the essence of what gives a thing it’s nature
All that’s left is but a ghost of what was once something far greater
Like all the money in your pocket ain’t worth nothing but the paper
Or you eat your favorite meal but ask they take out all the flavor
Ya’ll really get it lit? Shit, Mike is shutting off the breakers
Til you kiddos come around and give it up to the creators
To me ya’ll sound fabricated, rapping simulators
If Hip-Hop died then I’ve applied rhyme defibrillators
​
​
These kids’ egos are fragile because their story’s suspicious
And they try to sell a truth they know is completely fictitious
And now a wave of kids is rummaging through medicine cabinets
They have no fear that in a year they might be heroin addicts
And it’s tragic but they heard their favorite rapper when he said
That popping pills makes you a star but poppin’ pillies makes you dead
Profiteering from another family following a hearse
Yeah I know it’s been a problem but you ain’t gotta make it worse
And Yo, I know that every artform will evolve as time unfolds
And artists will emerge that break outside the standard molds
Challenge status quos, experiment with flows
But if you ain’t got a foundation then your structure will erode
All is due to the juggernauts before who laid the ground work
Vinyl breakbeats and a mic to make the sound work
If you’re creating something call it yours and represent
But we won’t say it’s Hip-Hop unless it’s got those elements
​
​
If you take away the essence of what gives a thing it’s nature
All that’s left is but a ghost of what was once something far greater
Like all the money in your pocket ain’t worth nothing but the paper
Or you eat your favorite meal but ask they take out all the flavor
Ya’ll really get it lit? Shit, Mike is shutting off the breakers
Til you kiddos come around and give it up to the creators
To me ya’ll sound fabricated, rapping simulators
If Hip-Hop died then I’ve applied rhyme defibrillators