I gave hip hop to white boys when nobody was looking. They found it locked in a basement when they gentrified Brooklyn. I left a list of instructions, an MPC and a mic, my sci-fi library, and utensils to write. Right or wrong, I think hip hop is where it belongs. Where it comes from is one, but, son, we wrote them songs. It was a ploy. Got fools tied up with mechanized toys. We are beings of breath, beyond the beings of boys. Now, you can break all you wanna. Scratch all you wanna. Graff all you wanna. Laugh all you wanna. But I want to show you what the stars are made of. I want to show you the stars. So substitute the anger and oppression with guilt and depression and it's yours.

White boys listen to white boys. Black boys listen to black boys. No one listens to no one. No one listens to no one. Alone on a mountain top, uprooted from the earth. Drifting beyond normalcy. A gold piece in God's purse is worthless here. We're Earthless here. God versus fear. Man versus fear. Fear not. I purse my lips and kiss like a glock. Violence is a metaphor for victory's plot. Change is inevitable, but our death is not. Now, you can break all you wanna. Scratch all you wanna. Graff all you wanna. Laugh all wanna. But I want to show you what the stars are made of. I want to show you the stars. So substitute the anger and oppression with guilt and depression and it's yours.

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): MICKEY P, MUSA BAILEY, SAUL WILLIAMS