Professor D:
You know I've been HipHop now for so many years
And when I first heard rap how it opened my ears
In my formative years I fell in love at first sound and
Learned how to put words over the snares ba** and
Kicks, started with the basic tricks take the
Hits from my favorites change my name from his
But I quickly moved away from this as I discovered my
Innate genius to create lyrics
With my newly founded super powers came to grips
And on microphones became the most dangerous
All we had was our love for real rap cuz
There were no funds for turntables or samplers
And thus did it innovatively then
We had no instrumentals so I came with a plan
I'd record some open bars on my tape deck and then
Rewind the tape, play it and then tape it again
(Chorus:)
Let me tell you how HipHop came to me
And how an underground star's what I came to be
And even though I've come far and it's paying me
I truly do it for the love not the fame or fee
Modenine:
I never knew that HipHop would put food on my plate
Back in 88 I was a youngin showin' the traits
Searching through crates, studyin' the old school greats
Reciting they rhymes, with my mates, till my jaw ache
No mistake it came to me, redefined my whole fate
Way back, I'm rockin' shows from an instrumental tape
Sneakin' out the house got my mom mad comin' in late'
When my pop locked me in my room I'd pop lock and break
Wasn't very good mic wise, was def without the wake
Used to wait for radio just to play one rap song
They said it was a pa**ing phase it wouldn't last long
My treasure was my bu*ter colour tims made of black ones
Dyed ‘em, punished ‘em ‘till they turned to wack ones
Fatal attraction just put me in the zone
My best friend my walkman with one earphone
Yes y'all I'm in the house, HipHop is my home!
(Chorus)
B-Elect
I keep right like Kris Parker been rockin a mic since
Rockin'a Parka up in tha park, pop lockin'
Floor rockin'em, 84 rockin' the bells with L way before
Industry dummies made it about the money now it's funny
Everybody wants to play my funk
But wasn't there when it was rough
Mad studio sessions without sleeping
Defecating over beats droppin' mental feces
Slept on until my mic dreams was in pieces
Masterpieces getting lost inside of PCs
Record companies want you to sound like Bob Marley retards
Holding guitars tryin to sound Jamaican
But it's the heart, the heart that pumps the heart
Like the D rocks dreads and spits it lyrical worldwide universal
Like Modenine, Thoroughbreds, Dope Poets colab on this track
What? What?
(Chorus)