Like Double Dragon without the bad guy b-boy references.
I was bumping DMC in the Walkman, replaying it hastily.
The fact is, none of this new rap was even made for me.
Is it wack to me? Absolutely, but why is it?
I spend time with this craft, inviolate rhyme scientist.
That drug-addled mumblecore rap that's dope to them.
I wish that style had choked within its own fallopians.
So when I listen for the music that the people listen to.
It's pretty difficult to find myself not in a dissing mood.
So I'm a gatekeeper to a damn near graveyard.
That headstone's got Big Daddy Kane's name carved.
He still kills live and I've got the same goals man.
You hold weight? I hold sand in these old hands.
Invoking the names of predecessors helps to keep me moving.
plus revisiting their classic tracks is deeply soothing
From P to Ewing with Aloysius inside of the middle
Every time I hear the latest, I feel my soul die a little.
MOP with G Rap On the guest spot.
Still helps to keep me going till that motor in my chest stops.
A delegate from a country long slipped away.
Let the death knell reverberate within a ricochet.
Forget a JPEG my EP had a J card.
Back in the days when real audio was on the radar.
Dig find listen sample chop and repeat.
John Stone and Sankofa stomp with confident speech.
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