[Intro: Al Green]
Love and Happiness… yeah
Something that can make you do wrong, make you do right
Love…
[Verse 1: Oliver]
Yeah, JCM, Oliver, Forty7 on the track
Yeah, we got that
Let's take it back to the days of the one, two, three
When you could flex on the mic to a certain degree
Because the public didn't care about your currency
They wanted Run DMCs and Public Enemies
Back when backpacking was more than just a tactic
And if you couldn't rhyme, then brother you couldn't hack it
The fact is with, the right mixing you could mask it
But bars are bars--if you don't got 'em you don't have it
Fuck defending our genre and our sound
But the facts are the facts, I'm done backing down
With a pen and paper you'll see how we get down
This is on wax so no fucking around
'Cause I'm naughty by nature, I'm here to displace ya
I'm here with the bass, to debase and erase ya
You get one shot, if you miss me then you blew it
Quit? I'm not gon' be able to do it
[Verse 2: JCM]
You see that? Y'all see that right there?
Y'all don't understand it man; ayo this is hip-hop
Ay, we got that
Now I know we carry young, new blood
But age can't take away from that old school love
Don't mean new shit ain't the business, but some kids who fuckin' with it
Gripping mics and think they're raw like they don't use gloves
No contracept can counteract the wack
Dudes left the game bruised in back, slapped with a bat, oooh
A few bastard children after the fact
Tell me whose venue's gon' ask for your ass back?
Calling in the clean crews and HAZMATS
Fans shouldn't wanna have cash back, and that's that
And that's where I come in, makin' it live again
You killed the clubs? I'm reviving them
Bottom line, there ain't no facing me
Because any space that I grace becomes the place to be
Try and stay with my pace if you can take the heat
And if you can't, then proceed to leave, believe
[Bridge: Oliver (JCM)]
Y'all didn't think we were done, did you?
Yeah, this one goes out to Big Daddy Kane, Treach, Funkmaster Flex
And everyone else who's come before us
Count me in
(Three, two, one)
[Verse 3: Oliver (JCM)]
So my pen goes:
Click-clack, get back, this is an attack, and uh
Take that with a vat, pack us in with that
Old school and look at that, in five seconds flat
You have a lyrical gatt firing musical crack
And that smack interacts, giving you panic attacks
'Cause that wack shit you been hearing is just holding you back
Your ass has been jacked by rap been talkin' 'bout stacks
But we'll have our say, it's only the opening act
(Hey, what about them Joes who keep knocking the flow?
Watching us roll but doubting how far we can go
Dope now, still a thousand more levels to grow
How do we let 'em know our sound is ready to blow?)
Crank that volume to eleven, deafen the room
Heaven doesn't sound this sweet, pure or what have you
JCM when your namesake came from above
He said "spit the truth and they will come"
And far be it from me to believe otherwise
Beneath the skies we breathe in, and we keep our minds
Open, and eyes wide, hope the for the cries
To die down, when they hear our sound
J, tell 'em how we get down
(This is the shit that we'll look back and call timeless
Or find up in the attic, dust it off to remind us
Who climbed up to the top, a couple of rhymers
Took the feeling we love and brought it back like recliners
Fire up your Walkmans and phonographs
Or new Zunes and iPods with photographs
Play it loud right now 'til you know they mad
It's 'bout the feeling man, it ain't for them to understand)
[Outro: Al Green]
Wait a minute something's going wrong
Someone's on the phone
