Making extravagant beats with our mouths as lyrical expressions are exchanmged between friends or foes. We don 't need no music, cuz we got so much soul. Take a seat in the back of the bus and be exposed. Empty your mind of any preconceived notions as you listen to unsigned hype exchange prose. My Mother's blessed children. Some rhyme while others make beats naturally. While people in the front crane their necks to see who among them is inclined rhytmically. We've grown into a multi-billion dollar industry from ghetto-dwellers boasting in the streets. And parks. And it all starts from a brother that can beat box, or plays drums on tabletops. Til the breaka dawn and you don't stop. Whatcha really know 'bout dat? Remember when they put a 10 year lifespan on rap? Now they want to take those words back. The lyrics express our emotions, our hearts beat with a scratch. Microphone check. Nowadays I grin like a proud parent when I hear a young brother catch wreck. But cast an eye on the ones that disrespect & act suspect. We get deep & dirty, diggin in the crates to back the wording. Goin underground to the bassment to immortalize the verbing. Can you feel the vibe, y'all. Throw your hands up high, y'all. Hip-Hop Hooraay!!