It's the b-boy, its the MC, they cant read the grafitti
It's the b-boy, it's the MJ, its the VJ they cant read the grafitti on the walls
(Chorus)
Throw away my tools, scrape with my hands make as much noise as I can banging on sand
I used to play in a band but those people are gone
Now the turntable got a needle in it's arm
I'm in a van flying without parachutes, wifey didnt plan to have marriage disputes
Everytime I stand at the door to say goodbye, its like shes watching her man go to die.
I packed in a rush but it was too fast for us, handed me an ultimatum as i grabbed all my stuff
Put a pillow in my briefcase I come with no rebates a gaurantee of return when i leave state
I make mix tapes, but they're cd-r's
Diggin in crates, do you see these scars?
They're from big breaks that i stripped from a song, now the turntable got a needle in its arm
Flame on like burnin', i'm burnin', im burnin', im burnin' but wait...
I fill up the milk crates, collect the LP's
Eric B laughin' at me c-c-check out my melody
DJ Polo doin' pawn, terminator X on an ostrich farm
Jam master J is gone and that's a shame
They say its better to burn out quick than faddddeee
I toured the states with a guy named CR, he had nothin but a tube of toothpaste and guitar
He was a soul brother, a baby mama back at home brother
A good reminder what it is to rock and roll brother.
Mashed potatoes every meal and if it ain't served outa greasy spoon he don't deal
Real as it gets with a puff that dont quit put him at a piano and he smokes it
A blues man, to old to go back to school man, still grinding it out but he already payed his dues man
I could see it in his face when he said Sage brother I gotta get out of this place
Embara**ed, he knocked me off balance truth of the matter is you can't live off raw talent
Perhaps you could at one point but those days seem gone
Now the turntable got a needle in its arm.