Attention To The Detail.

The revolution will not be televised
The revolution is here
Yeah, it’s Common Sense, with DJ Premier
We gonna help y’all see clear
It’s real hip-hop music, from the soul, y’all
Yeah, check it, yo

The perseverence of a rebel I drop heavier levels
It’s unseen or heard, a king with words
Can’t knock the hustle, but I’ve seen street dreams deferred
Dark spots in my mind where the scene occured
Some say I’m too deep, I’m in too deep to sleep
Through me, Muhammed will forever speak
Greet brothers with handshakes in ghetto landscapes
Where a man is determined by how much a man make
Cop Cognacs and spit old raps with young cats
with cigarettes in their ear, niggerish they appear
Under the Fubu is a guru, that’s untapped
Want to be in the rap race but ain’t ran one lap
Ran so far from the streets that you can’t come back
You tripping with nowhere to unpack, forgot that

Chorus: (Scratched by DJ Premier with variations):

“This is rap for real, something you feel”
“And you know, yes you know”
“Rap for the black people”
“Heeeeyyyy, heeeeeyyyy”

In front of two-inch glass and Arabs I order fries
Inspiration when I write, I see my daughter’s eyes
I’m the truth, across the table from corporate lies
Immortilized by the realness I bring to it
If revolution had a movie I’d be theme music
My music, you either fight, fuck, or dream to it
My life is one big rhyme, I try to scheme through it
Through my shell, never knew what the divine would bring to it
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want millions
More than money saved, I wanna save children
Dealing with alcoholism and afrocentricity
A complex man drawn off of simplicity
Reality is frisking me
This industry will make you lose intensity
The Common Sense in me remembers the basement
I’m Morpheus in this hip-hop Matrix, exposing fake shit

Chorus

Somedays I take the L to gel with the real world
Got on at 87th, stopped by this little girl
She recited raps, I forgot where they was from
In ‘em, she was saying how she made brothers cum
I start thinking, how many souls hip-hop has affected
How many dead folks this art resurrected
How many nations this culture connected
Who am I to judge one’s perspective?
Though some of that shit y’all pop true it, I ain’t relating
If I don’t like it, I don’t like it, that don’t mean that I’m hating
I just want to innovate and stimulate minds
Travel the world and penetrate the times
Escape through rhythms in search of peace and wisdom
Raps are smoke signals letting the streets know I’m with ‘em
For now I appreciate this moment in time
Ball players and actors be knowing my rhymes, it’s like

Chorus til fade

?

Originally Posted on 2005/03/08 09:40

[Q-Tip]
Can I kick it? (Yes, you can!) *7X*
Well, I’m gone (Go on then!)

Can I kick it? To all the people who can Quest like A Tribe does
Before this, did you really know what live was?
Comprehend to the track, for it’s why cuz
Gettin measures on the tip of the vibers
Rock and roll to the beat of the funk fuzz
Wipe your feet really good on the rhythm rug
If you feel the urge to freak, do the jitterbug
Come and spread your arms if you really need a hug
Afrocentric living is a big shrug
A life filled with *HORN* that’s what I love
A lower plateau is what we’re above
If you diss us, we won’t even think of
Will Nipper the doggy give a big shove?
This rhythm really fits like a snug glove
Like a box of positives is a plus, love
As the Tribe flies high like a dove

[Phife Dawg]
Can I kick it? (Yes, you can!) *7X*
Well, I’m gone (Go on then!)

Can I kick it? To my Tribe that flows in layers
Right now, Phife is a poem sayer
At times, I’m a studio conveyor
Mr. Dinkins, would you please be my mayor?
You’ll be doing us a really big favor
Boy this track really has a lot of flavor
When it comes to rhythms, Quest is your savior
Follow us for the funky behavior
Make a note on the rhythm we gave ya
Feel free, drop your pants, check your ha-ir
Do you like the garments that we wear?
I instruct you to be the obeyer
A rhythm recipe that you’ll savor
Doesn’t matter if you’re minor or major
Yes, the Tribe of the game, rhythm player
As you inhale like a breath of fresh air

?

Originally Posted on 2004/10/26 11:14

[Talib]
Yeah.. my Lord.. yeah

[Verse 1: Talib]
We sell, crack to our own out the back of our homes
We smell the musk at the dusk in the crack of the dawn
We go through “Epidodes II,” like “Attack of the Clones”
Work ’til we break our back and you hear the crack of the bone
To get by.. just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by
We commute to computers
Spirits stay mute while you eagles spread rumors
We survivalists, turned to consumers
To get by.. just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by
Ask Him why some people got to live in a trailer, cuss like a sailor
I paint a picture with the pen like Norman Mailer
Me and Willa raised three daughters all by herself, with no help
I think about a struggle and I find the strength in myself
These words, melt in my mouth
They hot, like the jail cell in the South
Before my nigga Core bailed me out
To get by.. just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by
We do or die like Bed-Stuy through the red sky
with the window of the red eye
Let the lead fly, some G. Rap shit, “Livin’ to Let Die”

[Chorus: Background singers]
This morning, I woke up
Feeling brand new and I jumped up
Feeling my highs, and my lows
In my soul, and my goals
Just to stop smokin, and stop drinkin
And I’ve been thinkin – I’ve got my reasons
Just to get (by), just to get (by)
Just to get (by), just to get (by)

[Talib and background singers]
(ba ba ba, ba da bada, ba da bada, ba da bada, ba da badahh
Just to get (by), just to get (by)
Just to get (by by by by by by)
(ba ba ba, ba da bada, ba da bada, ba da bada, ba da badahh
Just to get (by), just to get (by)
Just to get (by by by by by by)

[Verse 2: Talib]
We keeping it gangster say “fo shizzle”, “fo sheezy” and “stayin crunk”
Its easy to pull a breezy, smoke trees, and we stay drunk
Yo, I activism – attackin the system, the blacks and latins in prison
Numbers of prison they victim black in the vision
Shit and all they got is rappin to listen to
I let them know we missin you, the love is unconditional
Even when the condition is critical, when the livin is miserable
Your position is pivotal, I ain’t bullshittin you
Now, why would I lie? Just to get by?
Just to get by, we get fly
The TV got us reachin for stars
Not the ones between Venus and Mars, the ones that be readin for parts
Some people get breast enhancements and penis enlargers
Saturday sinners Sunday morning at the feet of the Father
They need somethin to rely on, we get high on all types of drug
When, all you really need is love
To get by.. just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by
Our parents sing like John Lennon, “Imagine all the people watch”
We rock like Paul McCartney from now until the last Beatle drop

[Chorus: Background singers]
This morning, I woke up
Feeling brand new and I jumped up
Feeling my high’s, and my low’s
In my soul, and my goals
Just to stop smoking, and stop drinking
And I’ve been thinking – I’ve got my reasons
Just to get (by), just to get (by)
Just to get (by), just to get (by)

[Talib: repeat 2X - with background singers]
Yoyoyo, yo
Some people cry, and some people try
Just to get by, for a piece of the pie
You love to eat and get high
We decieve when we lie, and we keepin it fly

Yoyoyo, yo
When, the people decide, to keep a disguise
Can’t see they eyes, see the evil inside
But there’s people you find
Strong or feeble in mind, I stay readin the signs

?

Originally Posted on 2004/09/20 23:29

[Kanye West] + (Choir)
Now turn it up, turn it up (a little louder)
turn it uuuuup, turn it up (little louder)
now turn it up (can’t live my, I, I can’t live my)
(I can’t live my, I, I can’t live)
now turn it up, turn it up

[Evidence]
I, I can’t live my, can’t live my
yeah, yo I can’t live my I, I can’t live my
life this way, continuouly get high
instead of runnin ’round, lock one bird down
it’s a new day gotta do it big just to get right
show no respect can’t live that way
you hold my check can’t live that way
without my chick on deck, can’t live that way
they say what they like, but I’ve been that way
Our moves calculated through the lens, almost here
success will be the best revenge
man, from Clint East’ to Kanye West (whut up, whut up!)
the sun can’t chill but everyday it sets (everyday!)

[Chorus - Male Choir] + (Female Choir)
this time I made up my mind
this time I’m back on my prime
I know there’s thing in my life
that I’ma let go startin tonight
(I can’t live my, I, I can’t live my)
(I can’t live my, I, I can’t live my)
I can’t live my, I, I can’t live my
I can’t live my life this way (can’t live my, I, I can’t live my)
this way (I can’t live my, I, I can’t live my)
this way, I can’t live my, I, I can’t live my
I can’t live my life this way

[Kanye West]
Kanye Chedda
My favorite girl wanna leave me just because I got a girlfriend
my freak girl told me “now, she a christian”
my white girl wanna move back to Michigan
I’m pullin girls off the bench like a sixth man
I’m in the club doin the same ol’ two step
while Omegas doin the same ol’ “Q” step
I have my money on my mind I was thinkin green
she a pledge A.K.A. “she was pink and green”
I wanna a good girl she want a gentleman
we sayin’ the same thing like a synonym
I wasn’t really spittin game I was scrimaging
my penmanship’s so hard it needs censorship
I’ma Chicagoan till Chicago ends
till we blow like Chicago wind
I don’t know what’s better, gettin laid or gettin paid
I just know when I’m gettin one, the other’s gettin away
this way

[Chorus]

[Rakaa Iriscience]
Go ‘head! Flip a coin so the game can start
Believe I know the drama, kid name the part
I learnt before the hot flame came the spark
It’s like before the pop fame came to ‘Pac
But this industry’ll play with your life man
They playin with your rent, food, water and lights man (yeah)
That’s why Rakaa brings it like that ol’ Toddy Tee jam
‘The Batterram’, then I’m off to Amsterdam
To rest up for strength to deal with this weight
To deal with these deals to deal with this hate
I dedicate this to Jam Master Jay
Run-D.M.C. showed me how to walk, this way

[Chorus]

[Kanye West & Rakaa speak in Outro]

?

Originally Posted on 2004/09/20 23:20

[Mos Def]

Lawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwd, lawd have mercy
All nice and peace and true, follow me now, we say
Say Hi-Tek yes you’re ruling hip-hop
Say J. Rawls yes you’re ruling hip-hop
Redefinition say you’re ruling hip-hop
Say Black Star come to rock it non…

Yo, from the first to the last of it, delivery is passionate
The whole and not the half of it, vocab and not the math of it
Projectile that them blasted with, accurate assassin shit
Me and Kweli close like, Bethlehem and Nazareth
After this you be pressing rewind on top your master disk
Shining like an asterisk for all those that be gatherin
Connectin like a roundhouse from the townhouse to the tenaments
Cause all my Brooklyn residents, on a heavy regiments
Don’t believe, here the evidence, where Brooklyn WHAAAAAAAoohhhh
See that? Bound to take it all kid, believe that
From where they sellin tree at, to where the police be at
Talib Kweli e-Kweli-ty yo tell them where we be at

[Talib Kweli]

Brooklyn New York City where they paint murals of Biggie
In cash we trust cause it’s ghetto fabulous, life look pretty
what a pity — blunts is still fifty cents, it’s intense
Tree scents is dominant can’t be covered with incense
My presence felt my name is Kweli from the Eternal Reflection
People thinkin MC is short hand for Mis Conception
Let me meditate, set it straight, came to the conclusion
that most of these cats is featherweight, let me demonstrate
Walkin the streets is like battlin, be careful with your body
You must know karate or think your soul is bulletproof like Sade
Stop actin like a bitch already, be a visionary
And maybe you can see your name in the column of obituary
Third rate teacher readin and talkin about,
“I knew he’d amount to nothin”
Neighbors like, “He was the quiet type,
who’d have thought they was frontin?”
Talkin +Loud+ like you in RCA, get carted away
with body parts and treys, what a way to start your day
Yo it’s like

Chorus: Mos Def and Talib Kweli

One two three
Mos Def and Talib Kweli
We came to rock it on to the tip-top
Best alliance in hip-hop, wyahhhhh
I said one two three
It’s kind of dangerous to be a emcee
They shot Tupac and Biggie
Too much violence in hip-hop, wyahhhhh

[Mos Def]

I said Manhattan keep on makin it (Bo!), Brooklyn keep on takin it (Bo!)
So relax we’re takin it back, Redhook where we’re livin at
Plenty cats be strugglin not hustlin and bubblin
It ain’t about production and — what else we discussin?
When the cock crows, my crop grows, enable me to rock flows
Strivin for perfection ever since I was a snot-nosed
COLOSSAL, true original b-boy apostle
Standin on the rooftop with the, Zulu gestapo

[Talib Kweli]

You think you the shit
somebody in the wings’ll force you to quit
It could be your crew or click
or some random kid you smoked buddha with
Consider me the entity within the industry without a history
of spittin the epitome, of stupidity — livin my life
expressin my liberty, it gotta be done properly
My name is in the middle of e-Kweli-ty
People follow me and other cats they hear him flow
And assume I’m the real one with lyrics like I’m Cyrano

[Mos Def]

Still sippin wishin well water, imported, from Pluto
Three hundred and sixty milliliters for all our believers
In miles or kilometers, most cats, cannot proceed us
in the jungle with the leaders we the lions you the +cheaters+
A cypher, will complete us if we come through your receivers
You can play us and repeat us and then take us home and read us
(line for line) Good Jesus, Mos Def and Kweli just
make a pussy freeze up, thinkin we will ease up

Chorus

Originally Posted on 2004/09/20 23:20

[ VERSE 1: J. Sands ]
Yo, from Pittsburgh to Pelan this type shit we be on
When we on inside a cassette deck of your Neon
Or in your Navigator whippin with the CD on
Lone Catalysts, rockin to the break d-awn
Make a sucker new jack be gone
He kick his shit, I be like: Yo, you puttin me on?
You wanna battle? Out to Rawls: pick me a beat to freak on
Somethin with a lotta bass and some highs to tweet on
The drums, I give it a run, you know, turn the heat on
Up in the kitchen, then you’ll delisc’ on
Who put me in a top position, J. Sands dishin
No look like Ron Strickland
Make the average MC contemplate, just sittin
Down, the wax spin like merry-go-round
While I format the verbs and nouns through underground
Now what you’re lookin for you have found
So now bump to the sound properly laid and mixed down
By no other than my brother, although from different mother
J. Rawls with Sands on the mic, so take cover
The sound makes you bounce like flubber, Ludacris, Danny Glover
_Lethal Weapon_, so while you’re checkin

[ CHORUS: Rubix (& Talib Kweli) ]
Due process, payin these dues, battlin crews
At the same time, livin in life, givin enlightenment
Seeing eye for the blind
Through the darkness of the industry we ministry

[ VERSE 2: Talib Kweli ]
I go on like etcetera
And blast my way out the plethora of replicas
Cats steady actin extra
And they parts is non-speakin
My skills go without and beyond speakin
Address your congregation like a deacon
Seekin converts, my convo is a honour and a pleasure
You seein me is like Geraldo seein Al Capone’s treasure
You the don of mediocraty, I’m the indispensable hero of hiphoprisy
Stoppin your flow like bureaucracy
Due process, you got blessed by the best of the population
Word to Black Shawn, I tracked your whole operation
And shut it down, cut it down like rain forest
You see Talib Kweli when you look up the illest in the thesaurus
I’m the definition of special edition with rack and pinion steering
To make my handlin more smooth than aloe and lanolin
“Manifesto”-spittin, my stiletto’s hittin
On a ghetto mission to keep it fabulous like a Lone Catalysts composition

[ CHORUS: Rubix (& Talib Kweli) ]

[ VERSE 3: Rubix ]
On a level of metaphors with lies life seems to depreciate
Like automobiles submit its original state
I’m into brothers with registrated plates pushin the weight of my spirit
Passin the limit of speed, rhymes per minute
Cerebral engine is infinite
Class, the third eye high beams illuminates the distance
The pressure on pedals accelerates, racin the currents of winds
Makin the intangible bend with aerodynamics and panoramic visionin
I see the world we livin in, five gallons of knowledge
A tank full filled with lessons
My temperature guage measures all of the blessings
For the miles I’m stretchin
Passin what is hot and what you got for all you cats on the list
Cause us to be the Catalysts
Of a new era, correctin errors
Learn to love it or leave it alone
Recitin these Nubian poems
From NYC to ATL we got continuous flows

[ CHORUS: Rubix (& Talib Kweli) ]

?

Originally Posted on 2004/02/11 14:19

You know them. They provided the soundtrack for your life. The beats that guided your tentative, teen-aged hip thrusts against the object of your desire in the darkened corner of a Brooklyn basement party. The rhymes that took your sensibility and world view beyond the stone and asphalt block you called the universe. The words that lent backbone to your game.

You’ve grown older with them. Sometimes you’ve trekked behind them, sometimes along an adjacent path. All of you, all of us, journeymen on this hip-hop road. Seeking meaning and purpose. Faithfully following the flag-holding trio marching along that far-off aesthetic horizon. A-Tip. Phife. Ali. And sometimes Jarobi. A Tribe Called Quest.

For you, there is no group as beloved. Maybe it was their unassuming, everyman nature. The personas that refused to mutate into the 30-second sound-byte, pop-music monsters so prevalent in the manic, media 90′s. Maybe it was their unyielding focus on the art they produced. A steadfastness, a quiet consistency that lent you strength in a world heroes get consumed, icons devoured and today’s philosphy becomes tomorrow’s heresy.

Yet, they did change. But in an organic and stimulating fashion. And you changed right along with them. Growing. Learning. That change is captured here. This album is a narrative of evolution, a collection of the moments that define not only one of the greatest groups in hip-hop history, but you as well. Perhaps you too were caught in that transitional land between teendom and young adulthood when People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm grooved its way into being in 1989. You latched onto its fresh sound, its bohemian sensibility, its subtle nation-building consciousness. It was okay to be young, cheeky and thoughtful-without the hell and brimestone of a PE, or the defiant angst of N.W.A.

In ’91 you watched as they entered the region of the sublime with the splendid, classic The Low End Theory. That record was perhaps the most perfect representation of the burgeoning hip-hop/jazz dalliance. You marveled as its effortless cool, glided in ecstasy to the effervescent bass notes of Ron Carter, and frenetically thrusts your knees and bobbed your heads as “Scenario” cut through the air.

Two years later they reached their finest artistic moment with Midnight Marauders, and you, with the sharp-edged perception of newly-fitted adulthood. knew that this was a work of elegance: the use of jazz samples as breezy sonic textures; the eschewing of sampled drum loops for skillfully programmed percussion. Do you know a hip-hop composition more beautiful than “Electronic Relexation”? An Interplay of beat and soundscape more masterful that the publishing “Lyrics To Go”?

Over the course of the latter 90′s, Tribe grew older and still-with all the implications of the process. 1996′s Beats, Rhymes and Life saw them plunge through spiritual maturation(Q-Tip’s), general disillusionment (Phife) and the irony of competing against the specter of past glory. Then the final opus, ’98′s The Love Movement, served up narratives of love and-tragically for you, for all of us-divorce. At times, you seemed dubious on these two records, unsure where to place them within the Tribe pantheon. But both were finer works than you, or even they, could have appreciated while in the moment. Such is the pathology of fan worship. And the lot of genius.

You may have all, some or none of these images from their decade. But even if the color of your memory is different, the shape remains the same. And the inky figure sketched out in your brain has smattering of red, black and green, and carries a flag along a still far-off horizon. Forever Questing, Forever Tribe.

Selwyn Seyfu Hinds

Brooklyn, NY, 1999

Originally posted on 2005.01.25. 22:55