音效
界面
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口音
界面语言
1
和/或在社交方面支持我。网络:
1979
You're so fake it's plain to see who you truly are, Looking less like a
b-boy, more like a
movie star, Forget the
funk and go hook up those disco breaks, Sit down punk and take a
look at what you make, It's not hip-hop, it's something more sad, sick and seedy, What's popping that coochie got to do with graffiti? And your R
& B
dance-steps what about finger-popping? B-boy electric shocking, windmills, body rocking, So body-body rock, body-body rock, I'll take ya back, Break your back, realise b-boys aren't faking that Funk that you've forgotten hoe, how could you have gotten so Far gone, that you could never stop and go, Back to the
roots, nineteen seventy nine, Birthplace of the
scratch, birthplace of the
rhyme, You'll feel it in your spine like your first taste of wine, We'll make it back; it'll just take some time [Chorus] Remember kangol hats, fat laces and lino mats, Kids spinning on their backs to the
sugar hill wax, Now the
sugar hills collapsed and the
sweets turned sour, Money's walking my culture through its darkest hour, Now I
wanna take it back, walk my way through time, I
was two years old in nineteen seventy nine, But it's a
time that I
miss; you ask what's the
difference, Hip-hop was then a
culture, now hip-hop's a
business Zulu started b-boying as a
form of expression, To channel youths stress and their aggression, Now through the
suggestion of record companies MC's are pumping these, Problems back into ya section, and isn't it ironic? But not the
sort to make you laugh, Cos MC's are building futures by raping the
past, Taking a
glass of Chardonnay and putting it to your lips, I'd rather take a
razor blade and put it to my wrist Than sell records on the
basis that I
have to promote Sniffing and selling coke, toting guns and smoking dope, You're all weaving the
rope that you'll hang yourself with My only consolation is within the
hip hop nation is B-boy elements that can still get me open, Like graff mags from Berlin, mix tapes from Oakland, Breakers from rock steady, plus anything from Tribe And old school New York that's still got the
vibe [Chorus] Remember kangol hats, fat laces and lino mats, Kids spinning on their backs to the
sugar hill wax, Now the
sugar hills collapsed and the
sweets turned sour, Money's walking my culture through its darkest hour, Now I
wanna take it back, walk my way through time, I
was two years old in nineteen seventy nine, But it's a
time that I
miss; you ask what's the
difference, Hip-hop was then a
culture, now hip-hop's a
business
完毕