(feat. KutMasta Kurt)
[Marc Live]
Check it out now, uhh
Marc Live, KutMasta Kurt
Episode two, yeah, "Attack of the Grunge," c'mon
[scratch: "Listen, to the situation my son"]
Yeah, this is the story, listen up, get ready
[scratch: "Listen, to the situation my son"]
[scratch: "I'm as serious as cancer, all fun done"]
[Marc Live]
I started out in ninety-three, check it
When the game was the illest, you had to come with crazy flow
Look, nobody had yo the doper dough
We didn't speak on it, we drugged the beat and gained fiends from it
Redman, C.L. and Pete Rock
We threw the guns up, we tore the club up
Three 6, way before the South, look
And kids was freestylin, street corner battlin
One blunt had 10 heads street whylin
Palladium, Danceteria, [?]
No politics, before The Source was named yo the street bible
Before the rap game was cliques and clothing
That's right - and Flex spun at Mars
And played in the littlest bars
Before Angie could rap - tell 'em
Huh, and chicks got smacked for talkin a lot
[Chorus: x2]
They call it rap right, nah this is street music
The street choose it, the hood need it, gutter love it
The public want it, the kids use it
I eat from it, listen I'ma speak on it
[Marc Live]
You see everybody's "King of New York" - that's right
And every year kids pass the title, every year kids are soft like Michael
Uhh - label bought, never taught
It's sad to see, they don't think they life through
No advance, just a chain and a gassed brain
At your mom's house, thinkin you a big name
No assets, no house no whips
The game got him hoein, the kids is not knowin
It's not a fitted hat, shell-top Adidas and rap
It's the block party, boombox, spin on your back
It's the chain snatchin, drug dealers
The gun clappin, close your spot, what happened?
[Chorus 1/2]
[scratch: "Listen, to the situation my son"]
[scratch: "Sucker DJ's got somethin to say"]
[scratch: "Listen, to the situation my son"]
[scratch: "Rhymes are pathetic, they think they copacetic"]
[Marc Live]
Yo I remember when nice kids had deals, no talent search
No Star Search, yo you had to be real ill
When it was about yo the beats and the sick flows
No boats and yachts, no dopes and drops
A promo budget was enough to
fill the streets and make the people love it
And one producer didn't control the game
And, cats made tracks and didn't care about the fame
And dance music was the hardest beats
And radio spun your wax, you didn't have to buy a week
And cats showed love for bein in the game
And not how many rastas stealin your chain
And when a hot joint meant somethin
Look, whether you signed or not, kids was still jumpin
And when you sampled a track, somebody else did
You was whack whether you sing or you steal raps
[Chorus]