I try to expand mindstates like swollen migranes/ Try to wipe the slate clean of hip-hop's blood-stains/ This is a movement, not a fad fashion/ No movie-of-the-week, this is a passion/ Hip-hop's lived since Kool Herc/ And now it shirks the work and needs rework/ Remix and refix the tricks and tics/ To figure a way to fumigate these ticks/ Suckas choppin and screwin representin slower mentals/ With muthafuckas that couldn't get up without instrumentals/ If you gonna say somthin, you best find shit to say/ 'Cause without your DJ, your fame goes away/ And I'ma stay independent and watch your dependence/ Falter you while I slip in decadence and transcendence/ I ain't gettin sleepy with your muthafuckin gold chains/ But I'll sleep in seconds on your tired brain/