I Am Hip Hop - The Audio (RealPlayer) Turn off the radio! Turn off that bull****! Yeah, Dead Prez got that sh*t right Changing stations while changing insights Dusting deceit off tarnished tracks Tuning into the truth & Dropping the dead signals from dead air From listening to too many poisonous tunes That got my people crooning ignorance Inside depraved shells of existence Insistent on pounding that bull**** Into the minds of street babies Rattling thumps of ghetto funk That allows street punks to glide on by In fly rides with rims spinning While their lives are continuously spinning out of control How many times has a soul been sold to soil the streets? Bleeding break beats over concrete Where heartbeats cease Bass burning the flesh from my bones Blood blushes the gravel and glass skyline Tinting my eyes red with rum That these streets forever thirst Lyrics lace me into a lifeless limbo I suddenly become the symbol of sacrilege Impale me on the crucifix that cats rock around their necks As if that reminder of death Will resurrect their dead consciousness I am screaming and seething with each demon Airwaves assaulting my senses Bull**** raps raping my reason Reality deceiving as my mind is receding Receiving sensory overload from sensationalism Exploit my womanhood into your favorite bling bling b*tch Let me slow motion For this brother that promises to make me an overnight celebrity Cuz I’m one of them girls down for riding the D Sex me up Shut me up Shut me down Break me down Reduce my existence to another justification of instant gratification Commercialize me and brutalize me With another hit of these bull**** lyrics Blast that sh*t loud enough for my ancestors to hear it So they may weep for my demise Brothers and sisters I am Hip Hop betrayed Every time another rabid rap gets played Envision me as your Queen Legs splayed as slave masters violate me repeatedly Slimed with their demon semen Implanting monstrosities in the womb of my creativity Strangling our collective voice through the manipulation of soulless sounds Killing the remaining vestige of cultural consciousness Just for you to flash and floss and call yourself the boss But no one will reminisce over you once your bull**** hits Fade from the farce of this existence you’re living Take me back to the days of basement sessions Street corner ciphers When battle raps were wit matches & Cats used their minds and their words as swords Instead of poisonous knives Before remixes of repercussive sins stole lives Before I was sold out as an industry whore When I was the voice and the heart of Black youth Broadcasting the truth of your struggles and glories Write me and rock me as your redemption song Make me your melodic muse Infuse life back into the lyricism of the ghetto griots Resurrect me from the shame and pain that stains my soul Give me back my name I am Hip Hop Turn off the radio! Turn off that bull****! Lyric samples from Dead Prez's "Turn Off The Radio"