Southside Revival

Hungry is an adjective attached to my philosophy, it's gotta be, progress revolves around economy

And I can see the consequence of capital first-hand, monorail construction pushed the tenants off the land

My people, get ready, it's about to get heavy, and when I'm not humbled then I got fam to check me

Silence won't protect me so I check one-two, and fight without fighting like the joint by Sun Tzu

On the hill, adjacent to Boeing Field, you can hear the planes flying over me behind my vocals

We speak in the Beacon Hill slang with a wonderful blend of black language and immigrant accent

And if the sun's out, half the kids will be absent, I'm navigating streets, sometimes it's like a labyrinth

I paint my voice while Sabzi builds the canvas to translate my ancestors anthems

It's a southside revival, put your hands high, let your arms be the pillars that be holdin' up the sky

I heard a few heads say that hip-hop was dead, no it's not

It's just malnourished and underfed (x2)

Now the reason that they killed made the reason that we came to be

Trying to eat and organize simultaneously, but instead most will settle for less

I can't front I give a fuck if Ronald Reagan is dead

He turned segments of the population into crack fiends, eradicated everything we gained in the '60's

Back to square 1, let's revise the strategy to reload the gun and bring about a radical change son

These tough talking cowards ain't hard, they'll bounce on the squad when it's time to go to war

Like George Bush did to the National Guard, real world-like swordplay, vernacular shark

Veterns of American wars, they get home maladjusted with post-traumatic stress syndrome

Peace to my big brother, leavin' in a week, stay safe in the Middle East, brah, get home safely

It's a southside revival, put your hands high, let your arms be the pillars that be holdin' up the sky

I heard a few heads say that hip-hop was dead, no it's not

It's just malnourished and underfed (x2)

I'm convinced that a return to the basics is needed, I like blizzes that burn long like DVS pieces

My speech releases fire from the beast within. I acknowledge its a game, I justify my need to win

Now, some get hip and some choose to stay ignorant, friction leads to fire now the cauldron is simmering

World champion B-Boys up in Jefferson, brothers gotta document for those not remembering

Both Props and Flavor magazines, rest in peace, I breath deep, proceed to clutch a mic and bless her dream

You say there's no time to study, people look, you got time to take a shit then you got time to read a book

I proceed to leave my footprints embedded on the block my first-born is learning to walk upon

Cops pour salt over the market, the south end is marching, we dedicate this song to the dearly departed

It's a southside revival, put your hands high, let your arms be the pillars that be holdin' up the sky

I heard a few heads say that hip-hop was dead, no it's not

It's just malnourished and underfed (x2)