[Intro Remarks: Illogic]
Yo, hip-hop been lost something, man
We gotta get it back
I don’t know where it’s going
I know where I’m taking it though

[Verse 1]
Yo
There’s been a dangerous development
The hip-hop generation has exhausted its relevance
They sort of fell for “Shoulder Lean” and “Walk It Out”
But then it was obvious we had nothing else to talk about
Plus the gangster ruined men, degrading aspects
That changed us from a chosen people to the devil’s rejects
A spoken evil, self-inflicted genocide
The rapping may be dying but hip-hop culture is still alive
But in the public eye and on record, we’re Stepin Fetchit
Wonder why the craft that we produce is no longer respected
Even the underground’s become the sound of clones
No definitive initiative when touching microphones
Yeah, I know my statements are blankets
But the pure at heart rarely overshadow those who fake it
What was once sacred’s now commonplace
Let’s grow the balls to give our common cause a common face
This world needs a voice, not an echo
So if you’re not grabbing hold of purpose, you gotta let it go
Tomorrow’s a dream, today is tangible and as hard as it seems, to plant seeds, believe I got a handful
[*Sound Bite Cuts*]

[Chorus]
(What happened?)
We’re not willing to change the way we portray ourselves through media to the nation
(What happened?)
To most, hip-hop’s not a lifestyle or a culture, it’s a money-making corporation
(What happened?)
We no longer care about the message that we send as long as we got our ice in our Patrón
(What happened?)
The underground’s become the sound of clones, no definitive initiative when touching microphone

[Verse 2]
I wanna leave a legacy of weaponry, something I can look back on and be proud of when I’m 70
So how will history remember you?
The answer to that question’s a reflection of the present things you do
Sad but true, you can’t claim mic-master with disaster seemingly teetering on your fingertips so I’m asking you
What does it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul for spit when the masses don’t believe in it?
Your plane crashes and you can’t blame hijackers ‘cause your insolence affects the consequences of your actions
I don’t know why I keep yapping ‘cause most rappers are happy to be the newest circus attraction
The bearded lady rocking Cartier frames or the dog-faced boy with a clown car through the terrain
Jumping through flaming hoops but tippy toes on high wires
Or flying trapeze flips ‘cause your name don’t mean shhhhh
Quiet, it’s sinking in
Before they just heard me speak, but now I think they’re listening
My mission is to lead you to the water
But I can’t make you drink if you don’t think you’d oughta
[*Sound Bite Cuts*]

[Chorus]
(What happened?)
We’re not willing to change the way we portray ourselves through media to the nation
(What happened?)
To most, hip-hop’s not a lifestyle or a culture, it’s a money-making corporation
(What happened?)
We no longer care about the message that we send as long as we got our ice in our Patrón
(What happened?)
The underground’s become the sound of clones, no definitive initiative when touching microphone