I got you open like supermarkets!
Busta Rhymes, “Everything Remains Raw,” The Coming, 1996
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It’s Christmas time and my rhyme’s steady bumpin.
Everybody happy, hair still nappy,
Gonna steal a gift for my old grandpappy…
From the bottom of my heart, that’s where the love starts:
The love for breakdancing, my love for the art.
And with this love, I do hip-hop from the soul,
A real MC, who never sweats how many copies are sold.
Yeah, I want to go gold, platinum, et ceteras,
But why put out some wackness when no one will respect ya?
I’m staying true, nuff respect to those that paved the way,
From Bambaata down to Shah (that be my DJ).
Without my peeps, I dont know how the hell I’d make it, word…
Sometimes I feel that my career is headed for the curb.
One love for the lendin’ hand and givin’ all your help,
Believing in me when I didn’t believe in my own self.
The Abstract, with whom I’m always making rugged tunes,
Kid Hood, restin’ in heaven, I hope to see you soon.
I dispense dope sentences without a prescription.
Prefixes asphyxiate bitches who flips linguistics,
Representin the West, relevant to relentless sentences.
If renegade rebels resent this wicked syntax,
Revert to revolution Ras reverse, reverberates,
Revolvin with written retalliation, rate repetitious.
More rhymes are funny now, happy and silly now.
Happy-go-lucky on the mic, and meanwhile,
You standin’ still, lookin out for a good rhyme,
Makin the wack junk, wastin’ my good time.
I got to keep it tight like seams,
Cause ain’t no fiends
Comin’ in between me and my dreams,
See what I mean, black?
And through our travels we get separated, never forget:
In order to survive, got to learn to live with regrets.
Now who done passed you a diaper and got you thinkin’ you the shit?
A thug changes, and love changes,
And best friends become strangers.
It seems to me like all these people claim to be the victim,
Acting like the whole entire world is out to get them.
Stand up on your own,
And prove that you are grown,
Because the life that you save may be your own.
Life is something you can’t borrow and give back;
Here today and gone tomorrow…just like that.
Two wrongs don’t make it right, but it damn sure makes us even.
Now on the first day of Christmas, my homeboy gave to me
A sack of the krazy glue and told me to smoke it up slowly.
Now on the second day of Christmas, my homeboy gave to me
A fifth of Hendog and told me to take my mind off that weed.
Now by the third day of Christmas, my big homeboy gave to me
A whole lot of everything, and it wasn’t nuthin’ but game to me.
I never fronted, you can get it if you want it…
Won’t say I’m the best, but I’m not that far from it.
Make a radio hit: heads criticize it.
Underground classic? Nobody buys it.
So, rap is fucked…
And everything blowing up sounds redundant,
But money talks and bullshit does 9 flat in the 100.
I know the feelin, when you feelin like a villain,
You be havin good thoughts but the evils be revealin’.
And the stresses of life can take you off the right path,
Jealousy and envy tends to infiltrate your staff…
We gotta hold it down so we can move on past
All adversities, so we can get through fast.
I circumnavigate the globe with a one-liner like latitude.
I live by the beat like you live check to check.
If you don’t move your feet then I don’t eat,
So we like neck to neck.
I been in the game for 10 years making rap tunes…
Ever since honeys was wearing Sassoons.
Bitch, you ain’t got nothin on the rich,
Every other day my whole dress code switch.
You keepin it real, but ain’t got a clue what reality really be;
See, the diameter of your knowledge is the circumference of your activity.
What’s when you rap and don’t appreciate the art?
What’s when you sell out just to get a start?
What’s when you make bullshit just for the charts?
What’s when you rap, but it’s not from the heart?
What’s when you’re hardcore, then you turn pop?
When you steal ideas to get props?
When you sell out to be on top?
What’s when you front like you’re hard, but you’re not?
That’s a gimmick.
All we want in this life is peace, prosperity and a little paper.
…So put a gerbil on your Christmas list.
I bet you never heard of a playa with no game,
Told the truth to get what I want, but shot it with no shame.
Take this music dead serious while others entertain.
I see they makin’ they paper so I guess I can’t complain…or can I?
I feel they disrespectin’ the whole thang.
Them hooks like sellin’ dope to black folks,
And I choke when the food they serve ain’t tastin’ right,
My stomach can’t digest it even when I bless it…
There’s a million ways to live on this thing called a planet,
I’mma live everyday, I ain’t takin’ nothing for granted.
I will endanger your species like an ostrich,
Hold you hostage, and crazy feed you swine sausage!
I show more blind rage than Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles wrestling in a steel cage.
Set me up, wet me up, niggas stuck me up…
Heard the guns bust, but you tricks never shut me up.
The principles of true hip-hop have been forsaken,
It’s all contractual and about money makin’.
These ante meridiem cats, insomniacs…
Four in the mornin’ we throwin back some Cognac juice.
Shakespeare’s gone, don’t even think about it.
For what it’s worth, I’ve been a hip-hopper from birth.
Try to disrespect, and get your ass played up like a Smurf.
I’d rather die enormous than live dormant.
Your whole vocabulary’s played out, admit it.
Still wack if it came out my mouth and I spit it.
When I need bread, I grab the toaster and stick niggas for they crumbs.