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Hungry is an adjective attached to my philosophy, it's gotta be, progress revolves around economyAnd I can see the consequence of capital first-hand, monorail construction pushed the tenants off the landMy people, get ready, it's about to get heavy, and when I'm not humbled then I got fam to check meSilence won't protect me so I check one-two, and fight without fighting like the joint by Sun TzuOn 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 accentAnd if the sun's out, half the kids will be absent, I'm navigating streets, sometimes it's like a labyrinthI paint my voice while Sabzi builds the canvas to translate my ancestors anthemsIt's a southside revival, put your hands high, let your arms be the pillars that be holdin' up the skyI heard a few heads say that hip-hop was dead, no it's notIt's just malnourished and underfed (x2)Now the reason that they killed made the reason that we came to beTrying to eat and organize simultaneously, but instead most will settle for lessI can't front I give a fuck if Ronald Reagan is deadHe turned segments of the population into crack fiends, eradicated everything we gained in the '60'sBack to square 1, let's revise the strategy to reload the gun and bring about a radical change sonThese tough talking cowards ain't hard, they'll bounce on the squad when it's time to go to warLike George Bush did to the National Guard, real world-like swordplay, vernacular sharkVeterns of American wars, they get home maladjusted with post-traumatic stress syndromePeace to my big brother, leavin' in a week, stay safe in the Middle East, brah, get home safelyIt's a southside revival, put your hands high, let your arms be the pillars that be holdin' up the skyI heard a few heads say that hip-hop was dead, no it's notIt's just malnourished and underfed (x2)Letras de cancionesI'm convinced that a return to the basics is needed, I like blizzes that burn long like DVS piecesMy speech releases fire from the beast within. I acknowledge its a game, I justify my need to winNow, some get hip and some choose to stay ignorant, friction leads to fire now the cauldron is simmeringWorld champion B-Boys up in Jefferson, brothers gotta document for those not rememberingBoth Props and Flavor magazines, rest in peace, I breath deep, proceed to clutch a mic and bless her dreamYou say there's no time to study, people look, you got time to take a shit then you got time to read a bookI proceed to leave my footprints embedded on the block my first-born is learning to walk uponCops pour salt over the market, the south end is marching, we dedicate this song to the dearly departedIt's a southside revival, put your hands high, let your arms be the pillars that be holdin' up the skyI heard a few heads say that hip-hop was dead, no it's notIt's just malnourished and underfed (x2) From Letras Mania