Funky fresh tracks I'm strapped with a pack
Pump the real rap false crap to the back
I stay true to the vibe and the flavor the old school
Gave you what all others lacked
Integrity contained in the grain of the lines
Artistic expression conveyed in the rhymes
Critics dismissed it and dissed it and wished it would die
But it lifted and strengthened the mind
Now the nineties are here so have fear it's getting washed out
All the original vibes are being tossed out
Taken from the streets and jacked for the beats
These companies are weak their songs incomplete
They seek to sell hip hop but instead they disrespect it
Dissect it use what they can sell and then neglect it
Everywhere I turn I find a sucker with a rhyme
Not an M.C. 'cause an M.C. knows the time
Rap is popping up like toast from coast to coast
They try to boast that their style is so dope
But it won't last a round when the real sound macks
"For all the pioneers I'm going way back"
Go back... to the Funky 97
Lyrics have been kicking hard from day one
I wake around noon I squint at the sun
Consider all my chores each day I catch more
Throw on my drawers before I get the job done
I step out the apt. without delay
Walkman pumping "It's a brand new day"
I'm gonna meet the keen-one when suddenly I see some
Ducks in a truck playing "Ice Ice Babe"
Down upon my ears my worst fears had ascended
I guess I must admit that at the shit I was offended
They proceeded to park stepped in the minute-mart
I thought to myself "The situation is splendid"
I stepped up to it and began to analyze the
Scene in green I tagged my name "Pete Miser"
Wide strokes in green dripping down the hood while I
