Musikal - Narrations From Neverland lyrics

[Verse 1: El Sonador] Rotate ya Hips & Hop in my ride, I'm about to take you on a trip through time. To understand how you get to this destination or state of mind, focus on the path we taking, and pay close attention to the signs. To realize what you will find and discover, I'm about to show you how they tortured a genre, and made it suffer. Born in the 1970's DJ Kool Herc was its father. Tribe called quest raised it like its own mother. Gave it style, before it even started rocking starter. Stayed loyal to the game, spread our beliefs, and got treated like a martyr. Commercialism the k**er, using distraction as a way to steal the show, fans not realizing that its more about the message, and less about the flow. Stories not over yet, there's still hope, gon turn on this track quick, to help us cope. This sound familiar to you? Acoustic drums being chopped up like dope. Creating the perfect atmosphere for a listener, forever a slave to the underground, 'nother boom-bap prisoner. Created from a single cell that merged and connected, won't portray heaven in my verses to brainwash ya to live in hell, can you respect it? Still cruising through the streets now about to pa** the county, being chased by commercialism even increased their bounty. Ride or die though, can't keep up with our drive. Used to be lost, now im f*in' with the lost scribes. Commercialism's sick flow, causing diseases of the mind. Ours so clean, even when cut can't be infected, hip-hop saints sent from above, got the G-code protected. These 16 bars? Perfected. Hip-Hop wasn't born to discover who's the greatest. It was created to stop people from being racist. A freedom fighter speaking to you listen don't neglect it, do your research if you can't accept it. 12 feet under. Bring the Boom Bap back from the tombs and resurrect it [Verse 2: TriXx the DeepFellOw] Groomed into obedience, liberty longs for lenience. Slaves braved, noble naves. Caved to their convenience. The fetus sits and reads the lips of nature's final remnants. As we're spewed, chewed to finer food a prelude to crueler breakfasts. Heck, this haunting dorsal hungers for morsals, mortals mourn in the mould of the shortfall. As i peered past the porthole. Fear permiates my veins, remains tighter than a cornrow, although an alternate tomorrow could annihilate the sorrow. So i pa**ed with the gravitons to the next dimension i could grab upon, so i grabbed the bong. Rapped a song, delivered a mythical catalogue and raptured god, ma** applause. Rap is now the constant conscious, the prophets ponder not on profit, burying the bondage. Golden thieves of the night strip you bare of your porridge and let it drip down upon the crown of the impoverished, it's obvious. I find scripture in the blueprint, a couple revolutions we can move with. The bad apple in the tree illustrates what allufe is, no pun's too big for the movement. I thought you knew this. Fellow is in effect, mad respect. El Son is in effect, mad respect. GunjleEnt is in effect, mad respect