What follows is part of my very own definition of hip-hop
One time, two times, three times... it don't stop
Show me where the drums at

Enter the music shop, son, jazz or soul department, pick up a tape
Start listening, you'll get a vision of hip hop quite in a tip top shape
That's right, everybody in the spot, one time
Take the perfect rhythm and you'll get the perfect rhyme
Find a fine turntablist to make your tune go backwards
Then add the most ludicrous lyrics for the best record awards


I'm zen again, welcome aboard, bored citizens, discover the new style
Don't know if my vocal chords will score again, the level of tension's high
Hi! hi! hi there! What up my nigg... Wait, stop, I'm white
I cannot be some sort of copycat, can I? So, what up my whiteys?
There, it's better, doesn't sound racist at all, alrighty
I feel almighty, already, oh really?! Yes, affirmative my friend
I ain't got the "affirmative action" lyrics performed by The Firm
But I defend a noble cause, in the name of nonsense in a song
If you think that it's pretentious then you're wrong
Wrong a hundred times, judging by the relevance of the next rhyme
What I say makes perfect sense, it's passionate, committed and prime
Look: Quicktime, player, football, grass, grime... stench
Okay, pardon my French
I'm gonna have to try to make amends
After all the words are under my command
Now let's sing the chorus like a man


CHORUS

This is HIP HOP, when you try to be yourself
This is HIP HOP, when you have records on your shelf
This is HIP HOP, tellin' stories of your own
This is HIP HOP, when scribblin' paper is your home

This is HIP HOP, when you try to be yourself
And when you blow the dust off the records on your shelf
This is HIP HOP, tellin' stories of your own
This is HIP HOP, this is hip hop


Alright, now you're hip-hop, when you're a dedicated zealot
Of Elvis, Nina, Louis, and pease porridge in the pot
Whether it's two, three, nine, or a hundred years old
Still shakin' your head on A Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul
From the soul, black medallion, no gold
Hangin' out with friends and sippin' juice on ice - cold
You find truth diggin' in the crates
So deep that it creates a swallow hole
Just like the groove on your vinyls' B face
Steppin' up the pace and speedin' up your rock-n-roll
It's time for quality control
Movin' fingers on the poor quality console
Perfectin' the tune, before the record's all sold out
Ouch !
You're prone to deadly doubts so end up on your couch
But you have to know it's never perfect as you wish
And you don't have the mellifluous voice of Chali 2na fish
So you give it up before you finish it, you wash your dish
And fall asleep, feelin' ashamed, cause it's only sevenish

CHORUS

HIP HOP, do your best and be yourself
This is HIP HOP, when you have records on your shelf
This is HIP HOP, tellin' stories of your own
This is HIP HOP, when scribblin' paper is your home

This is HIP HOP, when you're modest and you're honest
HIP HOP, when you're a never restin' artist
HIP HOP, livin' stories with a big zest
HIP HOP, listenin' to hip hop

© Khamsin 2013