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Yo this goes out to hip hop world wide. |
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Straight from leimert park, california, los angeles. |
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Yo, everybody in the hip hop struggle, in the life |
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Struggle, makin' a name for themselves, makin' |
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History, makin' a change. |
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Yeah all the project blowedians, all the tape |
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Slangers, all the record pushers. |
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This goes out to everybody doin' it on they own |
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Livin' legends, c.v.e., |
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Hieroglyphics, likwit crew, global phlowtaions. |
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Project blowed what's the code |
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I been rockin' mics since |
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I was 12 years old |
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I was born in the jungle, the concrete slab |
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Where people take any and everything that they can grab |
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Some niggas chilled on the block, but chilled in the lab |
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My project was to blow you up and break you off a slab |
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People are strange, and people are bad |
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But the gift of gabrier was something beautiful to have |
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It started at the good life, house of the first sightin' |
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We snatched raps out of they mouths when they were biting |
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There was nothing more exciting then to serve and perform |
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On crenshaw and exposition |
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God was born |
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He said please pass the mic to whomever is tight |
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Me and the fellowship took it and we held it for dear life |
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The inner city griots, the wild, the style, the crew |
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The ones they got their styles from, but claimed |
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They never knew |
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Already...yeah |
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The underground source, which everyone |
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Eventually feeds from. |
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Influence the industry in a round about way. |
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What up to dilated peoples, o.m.d., pharcyde, |
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Jurassic 5, erule, hobo |
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JunctionWhat's up saucey, what's up trend, medusa |
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Manifesto, hip hop clan. |
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Well the parties jumpin', the blowed is packed |
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And when a crowds like this |
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I'm ready to rap |
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But before |
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I can bust a rhyme on the mic |
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I gotta serve you in a cipher just to ear my stripes |
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The scared battle dog, with the underground catalogue |
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**** it, tryin' to make the world a better place |
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Instead of duckin', still tryin' to make the ducktes |
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Make the knowledge rain down in buckets |
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Make a little somethin', and tuck it, just to give it away |
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Build a work shop round where |
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I staySome people got the love, but they don't know the way |
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Some people know the way, but they don't know what to say |
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And I'm the sensei |
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I greet'em from far and near |
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Better watch the light in your eyes, a stars in here |
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Leimert park's very own aceyalone |
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The one who made the whole world come off the dome |
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Up at the blowed |
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What's the code |
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Yo I'd like to send a special shout out to ben caldwell |
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Much respect, thank |
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You for everything you've done. |
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Richard, 5th streets, world stage - billy higgins. |
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Much respect due to the watts prophets. |
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The last poets, and all the other poets out there |
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Much loveWhat's up a.k. tony |
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You ever seen a rapper with fire in his eyes |
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Wired up off the bud smoke tryin' to fly |
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Rap, rap, rappin', rhyme, rhyme, rhyme |
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Leimert park and 43th turn into a landmine |
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B-boy's tryin' to flow they rhymes, and b-girls |
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Lookin' oh so fine |
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My man bad drew gots the fresh designs |
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And cheatum got the sound set bangin' from behind5000 boomin' watts, kaos network state of the art |
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Audio-video, filmin' and editin' , capoieria and meditations |
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Computers and telebeams, at the workshop every thrusday night |
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Where we give the new definition to open mic |
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I hope y'all don't mistake glitter for gold |
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While we doin' it, and puttin' it down at the project blowed |
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What's the code |
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Yo, special shout out to all the |
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God love,And all the energy out there, |
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Positivity all the righteous men and women. |
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Yo, what's up to my homie djinji brown, diamond d, |
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Black star, de la soul, |
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Organized konfusion, common, bahamadia, krs-one. |
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There's a whole lotta people out there |
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I respect. |
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Project bliz-ni-iz-no...puttin' it down. |
