Project Jazz
Renaissance razah Rubies let's go, tell 'em
I was born in the era of kings
Of heroin dreams
Now it be a Maccabees, spreading my wings
(spread 'em)
I ain't trippin' off material bling
I analyze off of Billie Holiday to Queen
What was Marvin Gaye thinking when
He wrote that theme
A Trouble Man, why his pops
Had a gun his hand, damn
Hip hop go to way back then
Daddy used to sing doo-wop with
Two of his friends
I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten
Excited by sin
I got my first gold front from Ben
Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim
For dropping gems
Most niggas learned a lot from him
Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke
Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red Hook
Same hood Al Capone was put
And got his rep as a crook
In them criminal books, we don't look
When crack hit I could never forget
In '92 Mr daly was hit by gun clips
You had to pump if you wanted some kicks
The best product on the block
It was quicker to flip
We had whips, but it wasn't legit
I reminisce, Calvin Klein
He was running the shit
'76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift
To uplift, by the name Chron Smith
Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith
Special love and respect
To real true pioneers
(yeah) , people like Ray Charles (we in here)
Barry White, let's get back into
The hall of fame, come on
Yo, yo
It's like we all just beads on a string
Son is blind like a boxer
That bleed in the ring
From a cut opened up above his right eye
Body all black and blue, like
The Brooklyn night sky, uh
Bobbing and weaving
And dodging the propaganda
My raps take it back
Like shopping at Alexander's
My momma had the fly afro
My father cooked for a week
And leftovers with casserole
We didn't have much
But with a little bit of love
Made due with the little bit we had, yo
We in a new millennium
Granny still sing hymn slow
Jim Crows still keep the blacks po'
Look we blessed with the power
To move people with music
It's the natural resources
And we use it to broadcast
And transmit live from hell
What don't kill you, make you stronger
I'm alive to tell
Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man
Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall
Make sure it say, Renaissance Child
Talib Kweli, MF DOOM, written for the babies
Let's go
Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North
Of course New York floss
Don't know blue pork
Before you walk across, look both ways
The third and the fourth
Of them nowaday ofays
Kept a dog on a wooden leg
And hustled all night in the fog on the reg
Even dressed like a bum and could beg
Instead did the other on the strength
What a good egg
Been bred to win, since head spins
Ooh them gems
Spread too thin, depends on who's losin
Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?
The gang's all here
Enough combined slang to bang all year
It's on
Like it ain't never been on cordless before
Report for lawless, bosses off shore
With horses, hay and tablets
Made em with rabbit's
Habit's til they hate 'em and had it, damn it
And he's gone with the wind
Dead wrong, a song with a spin and a grin
Out of style
With the blow out the mild mannered smile
Like a foul wild Spaniard on the show out
Vaughn, the one you trick-a don
Why stick it, if you gotta slip a slicker on
Viktor Vaughn
Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on
As it was in the beginning
So shall it be in the end
All the fathers with the godfathers
Hip hop lives forever and ever
And ever this is something you gon' be
Able to pass down to your babies
From generation to generation, that's right
Aight? One love and we out of here