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Saul Williams
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1
I'm falling up flights of stairs,
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Scraping myself from the sidewalk,
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Jumping from rivers to bridges,
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Drowning in pure air.
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Hip hop is lying on the side of the road,
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Half dead to itself.
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Blood scrawled over its mangled flesh, like jazz,
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Stuffed into an oversized record bag.
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Tuba lips swollen beyond recognition.
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Diamond-studded teeth strewn like rice at Karma's wedding.
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The ring bearer bore bad news.
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Minister of information wrote the wrong proclamation.
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And now everyone's singing the wrong song.
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Dissonant chords find necks like nooses.
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That nigga kicked the chair from under my feet.
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Harlem shakin' from a rope, but still on beat.
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"Damn, that loop is tight."
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That nigga, found a way to sample the way the truth the light.
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Can't wait to play myself at the party tonight.
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Niggas are gonna die.
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Cop car swerves to the side of the road.
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Hip hop takes its last breath.
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The cop scrawls vernacular manslaughter on a yellow
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Pad, then balls the paper into his hand,
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Deciding he'd rather free-style.
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"You have the right to remain silent."
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"You have the right to remain silent."
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And maybe you should have
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Maybe you should have
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Before your bullshit manifested.
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These thugs can't fuck with me,
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They're too thugged out.
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Niggas think I'm bugged out, 'cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out.
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This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that.
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This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black.
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So where my aliens at?
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Girl, we all illegal.
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This system ain't for us.
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It's for rich people.
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And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money.
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But you can't buy shit to not get hungry.
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Telegram to Hip Hop:
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Dear Hip Hop. (stop)
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This shit has gone too far. (stop)
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Please see that turntables and mixer are returned to Kool Herc. (stop)
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The ghettos are dancing off beat. (stop)
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The master of ceremonies have forgotten
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That they were once slaves and have neglected
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The occasion of this ceremony. (stop)
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Perhaps we should not have encouraged them
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To use cordless microphones, for they have
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Walked too far from the source and
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Are emitting a lesser frequency. (stop)
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Please inform all interested parties that
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Cash nor murder have been included to list of elements. (stop)
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We are discontinuing our current line
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Of braggadocio, in light of the current trend in "realness". (stop)
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As an alternative, we will be
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Confiscating weed supplies and
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Replacing them with magic mushrooms, in hopes
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Of helping niggas see beyond their reality. (stop)
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Give my regards to Brooklyn.
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These thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out.
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Niggas think I'm bugged out, 'cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out.
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This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that.
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This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black.
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So where my aliens at?
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Girl, we all illegal.
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This system ain't for us.
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It's for rich people.
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And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money.
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But you can't buy shit to not get hungry.
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These cats can't fuck with me, I purr purple
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Sold, increased, toe shell like a turtle
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I walk the streets like the lie that I'm telling
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One listener grips me and starts yellin
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I see through speakers, I speak what's seen
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I eat and shed, I sleep and dream
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I walk the streets of London like "know what I mean?"
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And chillin' at waggamama
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Eatin' crib soy beans
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It's like that.
The Halluci Nation - The Virus Ft. Saul ...
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