[VERSE]

Eyo it's Deji comin back again to save the day
I'm on the right path, not needing anyone to pave the way
I've slaved to make a great display, your favourite now has came to stay
Amazing how I grace the place and never have to take the pay

I'm spittin with no limitations but I got no inner-patience
For whack rappers and imitations, hating them fakers
Reppin the patrons making innovations, not the paper chasers
What I say from pages aims to make some major statements
In terms of laymans, I've got a lot to say
And I lay it in a way that makes it sound as hot as cajun
Nah I'm not playing, I'm homage paying. Skills not fading
N' I'm still ageing. Still, this shit is pure, so you can smell the fragrance

A brute, a sadist, still I have to pay respect. Salute the greatest
Who made it on my playlist, yeah my favourites
You may find it strange to hear me say this cause the game is
Competitive, but there's some cats, you just gotta know the name of

So this goes out every single legend, residing in heaven
And the underground veterans, that's alive in the present
To all the cats spittin raps that's reviving the essence
And those staying true to the game, livin life as some peasants

Cause you can be perfection. Number one in your profession
But somethings wrong, the fame and ends you get ain't no reflection
It's question-less, forget the quest to best the rest
Just get respect. Cause rec-execs only sell records that the press requests

And copyright's retarded, cause how this Hip Hop got started
Was from rappers sampling from other artists on the market
Now it's illegal, rappers starvin. But the art has been adopted
By the labels using it to make a lot of profit

Dont give a damn about honesty, spitting from the heart
Instead they give the dollars to sellouts and put them on the charts
They ain't got no respect for us, they only want their stars
That's why I made this track, to give back and honour ours
[HOOK]

[VERSE]

Man it's not right. The proper artists ain't gettin the spotlight
No cash in the pot, man us rappers need to stop'n'strike
A lot of hype gets built around the name that we created
But we get no fame, it seems we ain't even affiliated

It's silly, ain't it? Labels being evil
Scheming and stealin the name of Hip Hop to cover up what they feedin people
These feeble people easily believe the credo
And see weak MC's with egos as what all MC's must be, yo

But not me, though. I keep it real, never steal
But in this day and age, man, who the fuck will that appeal?
I ain't gettin a deal quick, shit, not even a meal ticket
But I'll never change my style just so I can get it

It seems like I'm just venting and tryna relieve the tension
But I have other intentions, man I think we need an intervention
Can't even begin to mention the names that come to attention
When I think about the legends we're to thank for this invention

Kool Herc for backspins and for rappin
And we have to thank Grand Wizzard Theodore for scratchin. And that's a fact, man
Back when Rakim was craftin, we were all just learnin
But now the game is filled with vermin A&R's that ain't discerning
And Biggies turnin in his grave to see the shit thats earnin
2Pac wouldn't be happy bout that hologram for certain
And it's concerning but it's seriously clear, labels have been puppeteering us for years
And that's the way it is

[HOOK]

[VERSE]

And yo, I might be king of this rappin shit
I may have mastered it. But the fact is, I just adapted it
Essentially I saw the essence and mentally captured it
So I only managed it thanks to MC's in the past that crafted it

When a rapper that's an actor and Glamour magazine lander
Fashion tip hander, routine dancer advancing more cash than bankers
Handed time in the slammer for drink driving through Alabama
I laugh until they bail out and earn more Grammy's than Santana

This kinda dramas for publicity
A trick to the kids that's looking up and seeing them as the epitome
They ain't shit to me. I keep an underground level
Like I must've found the devil and that shit makes me sound like a rebel

I am and I'd like to give props - out loud to them
True heads of Hip Hop, yeah, all 50,000 of them
The ones that ain't just out to make cream
Cause getting heard is the main dream not catering to the mainstream

I understand the scheme, the plans to live the lavish dream
Get out the rags and tatted jeans, but keep originality
I like to spit reality, don't emphasise the fallacies
Sometimes my rhymes are violent with more energy than calories

I have no salary but that shit don't matter to me
Ma plans to be the baddest MC and have rappers flattering me
And be a part of Hip Hop cause it's a part of me
And make my livin spittin, men and women givin props to me

[HOOK]