Blues console the tunes; the roots that few would know
Pushing mid-40s on the smoothest roads, stuck on cruise control
Summer bonds of youth and old, but a decoy for the better
Humid weather brings feuds together. The war of the eras
Where one argues its misusage; the other argues to prove it
While some embrace the change, an inarguable movement
A part of the music, is the art of influence,
But if we spar with their heart's we're scarring congruence
Take a left on 80s Rd.
I ride with the pedal down. With set eyes on the ghetto
The birth of Hip Hop - The Bronx comprised in its borough
To liven this threshold we rounded so later,
Our block parties were founded on flavor, the sounds of Jamaica
Would be the grounds of behavior. Styles and breakbeats
Remixes funk inspired with DJ's - Their techniques
Would bless streets directly; Rare disses and thrashing
Disco and soul samplings, constant mixing and scratching
Innovation was happening; Unraveling growth, mold
With techno in Detroit and the capital's Go-Go
Miraculous flow, prose; MCs were a mere display
Breakdancing, graffiti art... Hip Hop was here to stay.
Expressway to 90s West
I move with a shift and.. one of the moodiest pivots
Into ludicrous critics mentioning lucrative lyrics
Irreputable mentions misconstruing our spirit
Disputable limits.. refusing so you can all hear it
.
.
Rapping meant closure... some were flabbergasted, exposure
Illmatic wrapped up the East; The West was grasping the culture
Grabbing, like vultures.. profanity, confrontational sounds
Fuck the Police, Cop Killer - were foundational grounds
Its display was profound. Never compromising, improvements
Were never made - their long struggles were disguised in the music
Supplied to their students; Constant belief in their words
Estranged parents - grief was absurd, the beef on the curbs
Violent streets were a blur - and its consistency showed
Never pitied the blows; how gangsta rap has continuously grown
Until tension - repeatedly shown.. startling for our sake
And MCs as role models were apart of the heartaches
Death at a sparked rate - a menacing rhythm
That beat to the unsolved cases exposing the glitch in the system
Envisioning wisdom in the future, but the vision was dead
Becoming a victim of a commercialized prison instead
.
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Millenium Road (Under Construction)
Almost on empty. Windows fogged.. confusion, distraught
A pool full of foolishness plots where it's cool to get shot
Or over launching your dues while trying to stomach the feuds
Plummeting sales, but it's 'Who has more money than who'
The specifics have changed.. it's all big businesses, fame
Productions limited to club critics and the lyrics? The same
Uncontrollable slaving, yet we're scolding our models
Dissing those who paved and molded the road that we follow
Samplings now stolen or borrowed - Ignorance condone the disgrace
Bamboozled.. we've now put the minstrel shows on display
Where we clone the clever. Eventually never known or better
Or they kind of make it - and sale more ringtones than records
Got away from our rapping. Now, we're getting paid for our fashion
Tighter shirts and Pop Rap are being portrayed to the masses
Stagnant mishaps and habits.. too passive to serve us
We're so wrapped in that big hit - a mere classic's unheard of
Owners then actors, factor in idiots - there's laughter
Rappers trying to sing and singers are rappers
People are bored. We're in need of a legend
I can't drive forward because this road is reaching a dead end
Drive By Music
-Nique.
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