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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
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