Remember how it used ta make you feel…
Butthole-to-butthole in a some small spot, rockin’ wit’cho peeples.
Bobbin yo head to that beat that was bangin’ like…BOOM…BOOM…BOOM!
Remember watching the DJ work the 1’s and 2’s, mixin’ up that brand new hotness.
Seem like e’er week somebody dropped a new style or found a new cut that just HAD ta be messed with.
Remember how wild it was when the MC rocked the mic - flow was off da CHAIN.
Freestyle battle, so you know most of it was straight off the dome.
Pre-written was fo’ suckas.
That’s where the swords were sharpened, cuz you hadta come correct and respect wasn’t just given, it hadta be earned.
Remember the B-boy crews with the cardboard on tha sidewalk twisting and contorting their bodies into crazy positions.
Remember watchin’ the artists do they thang with the steady hand. Full-blown…no brushes…flawless…and you couldn’t tell us it wasn’t art.
Remember when the crowd was the critic.
E’erbody listened to e’re syllable, e’er beat, watched e’er move, and e’er pass of the can and didn’t hesistate ta give a nigga tha bizness, when necessary.
Remember when tha 4-elements were still pure.
Remember when niggaz did it fo’ free, cuz it used to be solely about expression. Music by the people for the people. It wasn’t about the money, cuz there was little to be gotten at the time.
Remember Common’s “I Used To Love H.E.R.”, Boogie Down Productions’ “The Bridge is Over”, Beastie Boys’ “Paul Revere”, Public Enemy’s “Fight The Power”, A Tribe Called Quest’s “Scenario”, LL Cool J’s “I’m Bad”, Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick’s “The Show”, and the list goes on 4-eva.
Back then, MC’s weren’t just rappers. They were lyricists who carefully, thoughtfully, and insightfully strung stanzas of poetry together over beats. There was a sense of pride. MC’s worked diligently to establish their individuality and to develop a sound that was unlike any other MC.
The music touched yo’ soul. It was relevant, conscious, and uplifting.
There was a love for the art that was hip-hop. Creativity and innovation were its cornerstone.
We had mad love fo’ it. It was our baby, constantly growing. And, we loved that fact that it was maturing, but our child has lost its way. Maybe it’s our fault – NEGLECT. Maybe it’ll come back like the prodigal son.
Is hip-hop dead?
Savior Sol…Revolution for Retail…”Quality at any cost”.
