I'm falling up flights of stairs, scraping myself from the sidewalk

Jumping from rivers to bridges, drowning in pure air

Hip hop is lying on the side of the road, half dead to itself

Blood scrawled over its mangled flesh, like jazz

Stuffed into an oversized record bag

Tuba lips swollen beyond recognition

Diamond studded teeth strewn like rice at Karma's wedding

The ring bearer bore bad news

Minister of information wrote the wrong proclamation

And now everyone's singing the wrong song

Dissonant chords find necks like nooses

That nigga kicked the chair from under my feet

Harlem shaking from a rope, but still on beat

"Damn, that loop is tight," that nigga found a way to sample the way, the truth, the light

Can't wait to play myself at the party tonight

Niggas are gonna die

Cop car swerves to the side of the road

Hip hop takes its last breath

The cop scrawls "vernacular manslaughter" onto a yellow pad

Then balls the paper into his hand, deciding he'd rather freestyle

You have the right to remain silent

You have the right to remain silent

And maybe you should have, maybe you should have, before your bullshit manifested

Yo, these thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out

Niggas think I'm bugged out, cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out

This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that

This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black

So where my aliens at? Girl, we're all illegal

This system ain't for us, it's for rich people

And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money

But you can't buy shit to not get hungry

Telegram to Hip Hop: Dear Hip Hop, (Stop)

This shit has gone too far (Stop)

Please see that turntables and mixer are returned to Kool Herc (Stop)

The ghettos are dancing off beat (Stop)

The master of ceremonies have forgotten that they

Were once slaves and have neglected the occasion of this ceremony (Stop)

Perhaps we should not have encouraged them to use cordless microphones

For they have walked too far from the source and are emitting a lesser frequency (Stop)

Please inform all interested parties that cash

Nor murder have been included to the list of elements (Stop)

We are discontinuing our current line of braggadocio

In light of the current trend in "realness" (Stop)

As an alternative, we will be confiscating weed supplies and replacing them with magic mushrooms

In hopes of helping niggas see beyond their reality (Stop)

Give my regards to Brooklyn

Yo, these thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out

Niggas think I'm bugged out, cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out

This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that

This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black

So where my aliens at? Girl, we're all illegal

This system ain't for us, it's for rich people

And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money

But you can't buy shit to not get hungry

These cats can't fuck with me, I purr purple

Sold, increased, toe shell like a turtle

I walk the streets like the lie that I'm tellin'

One listener grips me and starts yellin'

I see through speakers, I speak what's seen

I eat and shit, I sleep and dream

I walk the streets of London like, "Know what I mean?"

And chill in Wagamama's eating crisp soy beans

It's like that!