This is dedicated to sisters who actually support hip-hop by buying the records not bootlegging like brothers do
And it's to female emcees and lyricists and poets everywhere, everywhere, everywhere

Give me an H ("H")
Give me an I ("I")
Give me an P ("P")
Give me an H ("H")
Give me an O ("O")
Give me an P ("P")
What's that spell? ("Hip-hop") 3x

I’m a hip hop cheerleader
Carrying hand grenades
And blood red pom-poms
Screaming from the sidelines of a stage I built
Afraid to part down the middle
For feminine riddles
Reigning/raining words of proverbs
Of prophets who never get heard
Because the microphone is just another phallic symbol
That allows jack to be nimble
Jack to be quick
Leaving Jill with a man who can’t climb
A hill and a bucket of spit
She can’t drink or find her reflection inside
She hides
Inside crooked eyes of amber
Allows her life to be slandered
If hip hop is conscious
We must change the standard
My womb-mate’s been slandered
I planned her arrival
Letters and lyrics never sent to those lovers
Who claim that they know her
But still blow her off as a flunky
Not a microphone junkie

Fiending for a quick fix
Not fast cars & hoe tricks
Her mouth matrix is taped
Hooked on phonics escaped
Left her language for rape
So she ate her words
And became an instant interlude
A cute break between the music
When she was an electric lady
A black flower rhyme-scheme romantic
A breathe and release tantric with five tongues
And no one
Understood why her flow was so fast
Asked to slow down
Hesitate - never last
To the finish I’m gonna win this
All the DJs gon’ spin it
When you’re a woman
Sometimes all you have is a minute

I’m a hip hop cheerleader
I buy all your records
Despite your misogyny
Not looking for the blond in me
Respond to me
I feel molested, hip hop fondled me
I know the conscious brothas follow me
Holla'at me with half breaths
Real emcees don’t half step
But I never slept

Took my poems and made food
Put my baby in school
Taught me wait for no one
Never turn my back from the son of man
I know all my fly mamas understand
Got the rifle on my back
With the mic in my hand

I’ll be your Tubman compass
So we can map out this land
I’ll be the air that you breathe
I’ll be your number one fan
I’ll scream the "heys"
I’ll tolerate your "hoes"
I’m a hip hop cheerleader
There she go, there she go!

Self love freed me
Despite all your rhymes with bitches
I know you need me
Completely believe me
I see you growing in me
Looking out from my belly
Your rhyme-schemes are telling
Sing those lullabies to Nelly
Close to my edge like Melle
Doing cartwheels and air splits
You stage diving into white chics
While I got your hair pic
Your weapon of choice

I chose my voice
Cause I only gotta quarter left
On this microphone meter
I got on a short-pleated skirt
I’m a hip hop cheerleader