Telegram

I'm falling up flights of stairs

Scraping myself from the sidewalk

Jumping from rivers to bridges

Drowning in pure air

Hip Hop is lying on the side of the road

Half dead to itself

Blood scrawled all over its mangled flesh like jazz

Stuffed into an oversized record bag

Tuba lips swollen beyond recognition

Diamond-studded teeth strewn like rice at Karma's wedding

The ring-bearer bore bad news

Minister of Information wrote the wrong proclamation

And now everyone's singing the wrong song

Dissonant chords find necks like nooses

That nigga kicked the chair from under my feet

Harlem's shaking from a rope but still on beat

Damn that loop is tight

That nigga found a way to sample

The way, the truth, the life

Can't wait to play myself at the party tonight

Niggas are gonna die

Cop car swerves to the side of the road

Hip Hop takes his last breath

The cops scrawl "vernacular manslaughter" on a yellow pad

Then balls of paper into his hand

Deciding he'd rather freestyle

You have the right to remain silent

You have the right to remain silent

And maybe you should have

Maybe you should have

Before your bullshit manifested

Yo, these thugs can't fuck with me

They too thugged out

Niggas think I'm bugged out

Cuz I ain't tryna lug doubt

Say Hip Hop no more, son

It's bigger than that

Say ghetto no more, black

It's bigger than black

So where my aliens at, girl?

We all illegal

The system ain't for us

It's for rich people

And you ain't rich, dog

You just got money

But you can't buy shit to not get hungry

Telegram to Hip Hop

Dear Hip Hop, stop

This shit has gone too far, stop

Please see that turntables and mixer return to Kool Herc, stop

The ghettos are dancing off-beat, stop

The master of ceremonies has forgotten that they were once slaves

And have neglected the occasion of the ceremony, stop

Perhaps you should not have encouraged

Them to use cordless microphones

For they have walked too far from the source

And are emitting a lesser frequency, stop

Please inform all interested parties that cash nor murder

Have been included to the list of elements, stop

We are discontinuing our line of braggadocio

In light of the current trend in realness, stop

As an alternative, we will be confiscating weed supplies

And replacing them with magic mushrooms

In hopes of helping niggas see beyond their reality, stop

Give my regards to Brooklyn

These cats can't fuck with me

I perm purple

Sewed and creased

Toes shelled like a turtle

I walk the streets like the lie that I'm telling

One listener grips his knee and starts yelling

I see through speakers, I speak what's seen

I eat and shit, I sleep and dream

I walk the streets of London like "Nahmean?"

And chill in Wagamama eating crisp soy beans

It's like that