I Am Hip Hop Production: Infamous

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This is written in the voice of Hip Hop expressing her rage against being denigrated, disrespected, and commercialized.

Turn off the radio! Turn off that bullshit!

Yeah, Dead Prez got that sh*** right
Changing stations while changing insights
Dusting deceit off tarnished tracks
Tuning into the truth
& Dropping the dead signals from dead air
From listening to too many poisonous tunes
That got my people crooning ignorance
Inside depraved shells of existence
Insistent on pounding that bullshit
Into the minds of street babies
Rattling thumps of ghetto funk
That allows street punks to glide on by
In fly rides with rims spinning
While their lives are continuously spinning out of control
How many times has a soul been sold to soil the streets?
Bleeding break beats over concrete
Where heartbeats cease
Bass burning the flesh from my bones
Blood blushes the gravel and glass skyline
Tinting my eyes red with rum
That these streets forever thirst
Lyrics lace me into a lifeless limbo
I suddenly become the symbol of sacrilege
Impale me on the crucifix that cats rock around their necks
As if that reminder of death
Will resurrect their dead consciousness
I am screaming and seething with each demon
Airwaves assaulting my senses
Bullshit raps raping my reason
Reality deceiving as my mind is receding
Receiving sensory overload from sensationalism
Exploit my womanhood into your favorite bling bling bi***
Let me slow motion
For this brother that promises to make me an overnight celebrity
Cuz I’m one of them girls down for riding the D
Sex me up
Shut me up
Shut me down
Break me down
Reduce my existence to another justification of instant gratification
Commercialize me and brutalize me
With another hit of these bullshit lyrics
Blast that sh*** loud enough for my ancestors to hear it
So they may weep for my demise
Brothers and sisters I am Hip Hop betrayed
Every time another rabid rap gets played
Envision me as your Queen
Legs splayed as slave masters violate me repeatedly
Slimed with their demon semen
Implanting monstrosities in the womb of my creativity
Strangling our collective voice through the manipulation of soulless sounds
Killing the remaining vestige of cultural consciousness
Just for you to flash and floss and call yourself the boss
But no one will reminisce over you once your bullshit hits
Fade from the farce of this existence you’re living
Take me back to the days of basement sessions
Street corner ciphers
When battle raps were wit matches
& Cats used their minds and their words as swords
Instead of poisonous knives
Before remixes of repercussive sins stole lives
Before I was sold out as an industry whore
When I was the voice and the heart of Black youth
Broadcasting the truth of your struggles and glories
Write me and rock me as your redemption song
Make me your melodic muse
Infuse life back into the lyricism of the ghetto griots
Resurrect me from the shame and pain that stains my soul
Give me back my name
I am Hip Hop

Turn off the radio! Turn off that bullshit!



* Sampled lyrics by Dead Prez from “Turn Off The Radio”