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You're so fake, it's plain to see who you truly are Looking less like a b-boy, more like a movie star Forget the funk and go look at that disco breaks Sit down punk and take a look at what you make it's not hip hop, it's something more sad sick and seedy What's popping that coochie got to do with graffiti? And your r&b dance steps what about finger popping B-boy electric shocking, windmills body rocking So body body rock body body rock I'll take you back, break your back Realize b-boys ain't faking that Fucked that you've forgotten hoe How could you have gotten so far gone? That you could never go back to the roots 1979, birthplace of the scratch, birthplace of the rhyme You can feel it in your spine like your first taste of wine We'll make it back; it'll just take some time Remember kangol hats, fat laces and lino mats Kids spinning on their back to the sugarhill wax Now the sugarhills collapsed, and the sweets turned sour Money's walking my culture through its darkest hour Now I wanna take you back, walk my way through time I was 2 years old in 1979, but it's a time that I miss You ask what's the difference. Hip hop was then a culture now hip hops a business Zulu started b-boying as a form of expression To channel youths stress and their aggression Now through the suggestion of record companies Mc's are pumping these problems back into your section Isn't it ironic, but not the sort that makes you laugh? Cause MC's are building futures by raping the past Taking the glass of chardonnay and put it to your lips I'd rather take a razorblade and put it to my wrist Than sell records on the basis that I have to promote Sniffing and selling coke, toting guns and smoking dope You're weaving the rope that you'll hang yourself with My only consolation is within the hip hop nation is B-boy elements that can still get me open Like Graff mags from Berlin, mix tapes from Oakland Breakers from rock steady plus anything from tribe And the old school New York thats still got the vibe Remember kangol hats fat laces and lino mats Kids spinning on their back to the sugarhill wax Now the sugarhills collapsed, and the sweets turned sour Money's walking my culture through its darkest hour Now I wanna take you back, walk my way through time I was 2 years old in 1979, but it's a time that I miss You ask what's the difference. Hip hop was then a culture now hip hops a business