Project Jazz

[Intro: Hell Razah] Renaissance... Razah Rubies... Let's go, tell 'em [Hell Razah] I was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams Now it be a Maccabees, spreading my wings (spread 'em) I ain't trippin' off material bling I analyze off of Billie Holiday to Queen What was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme A Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn Hip hop go to way back then Daddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin I got my first gold front from Ben Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems Most niggas learned a lot from him Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red Hook Same hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook In them criminal books, we don't look A crack hit I could never forget In '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips You had to pump if you wanted some kicks The best product on the block, it was quicker to flip We had whips, but it wasn't legit I reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit '76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift To uplift, by the name Charon Smith [Interlude: Hell Razah] Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith Special love and respect To real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here) Barry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on [Talib Kweli] Yo, yo, it's like we all just beads on a string Son is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring From a cut opened up above his right eye Body all black and blue, like the Brooklyn night sky, uh Bobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda My raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's My momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casserole We didn't have much, but with a little bit of love Made due with the little bit we had, yo We in a new millennium, Granny still sing hymn slow Jim Crow's still keep the blacks po' Look we blessed with the power to move people with music It's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell What don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm alive to tell [Interlude: Hell Razah] Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall Make sure it say, Renaissance Child Talib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies Let's go [MF Doom] Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North Of course New York floss, don't know and blew pork Before you walk across, look both ways The third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase Kept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the reg Even dressed like a bum and could beg Instead use the other on the strength, what a good egg Been bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems Spread too thin, depends on who's losing Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in? The gang's all here, enough combined slang to bang all year It's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before Report for lawless bosses off shore With horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers Habits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it And it's gone with the wind, dead wrong A song, with a spin and a grin Out of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile Like a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out Vaughn, the one you trick-a-don Why stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn [Outro: Hell Razah] Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end All the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever And ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies From generation to generation, that's right, aight? One love... and we out of here