Life Support

[Verse 1: Skirmish] It’s funny how I fell in love with my first YO Blood, sweat, tears in every verse wrote With every word spoke but I’ll do this music If I'll earn dough or I was dirt broke Lyrical exercise but people respect the grind More than they respect the rhymes We make sure the names of all the heads that died Will always be kept alive and how long will they mourn me? Everyday until the end of time Look at the legacy they left behind The one love to the lyricists that still exist Cause I couldn’t picture this (It was all a dream) Before it was thoughts i'd seen When I close my eyes and fall asleep but now I’m living it This rapping shit ain’t a passing phase Cause the habit is hard to break, I can’t escape *Scratching* [Verse 2: Psiklone] I put my soul in every rhyme that I write (Big L rest in peace) Cause ripping mics is the light of my life I’ve been fed up and my stomach is cramped The scene has practically vanished but my hunger is back And classics are haphazard, all I see is backpackers, whack rappers Black hatters and backstabbers as if that matters When we’re out laying the ground breaking foundations like jackhammers Miss ripping ciphers at open mics It’s a lifestyle, we rock our clothes oversized Inspired as an adolescent By Roc Raida on cross faiders Scratching with battle weapons It’s my passion, banging the beats For DJs and b-boys and the graff on the streets This is hop hop music’s in the vision Bringing you back to boombap fused with super-lyricism [Verse 3: Possessed] I’m still a fan of this shit far from marital bliss But I’mma stick with it till I’m carried by six What happened to Em? What happened to bis Will I be the next rapper to slip crazy? No better way of expressing myself See there’s hip hop then there’s everything else We go against the grain, change the game And we pave the way while you stay the same So pay homage, the difference is We give to this hip hop shit, not take from it Every word in the pad, every verse every track Word till the verge of collapse Never turning my back, my life is hip hop Live, breathe, spit, bleed, and die for hip hop How much time is left? Hip hop’s not dead, it’s dying And this here is its final breath