[boi-oi-oing]

http://www.guerrillanews.com/smoke/

And it goes like this…


And it goes like this…


Sometimes,


Sometimes I believe that some of these emcees sit down and consciously try to figure out how to get more young black men shot.


Like they figured out a correlation between making money and delivering more young black souls into the hands of the cops.


I mean, for them, its all about moving CDs out of one-stops and record shops, even if that means convincing them young brothers to do whatever they have to do in order to get the things that them emcees videos say they got.


But, yo... they ain't got.


So, how many more need to be caught shoplifting inside the Versace shop before we realize that they are not that successful.


And when Gil Scott Heron dropped Message to the Messenger, I really hoped that they would listen, but I'll tell you something


when the smoke clears them emcees gonna be all ears

when the smoke clears them emcees gonna be all ears

when the smoke clears them emcees gonna want to hear why BET don’t seem to be able to see as well as Univision.


Ninety-nine percent of the time pimping the worst parts of capitalism through record company ho's, platinum coated egos, putting out ******** lyrics hyper marketed to supercede those revolutionary mantras of yesteryear.


Si si watu

weusi watu wazuri

pamoja tu tashinda

pamoja tu tashinda


We are black beautiful people.

Together we will win

Together we will win.


Meanwhile, on the other side of town, emcees been going from record sales to prison cells.


From standing outside of strip bars to stripping behind bars: being stripped of their clothes, jewelry and cars.


Ass out, holding their jaws...


Ass out, holding their scars...


Ass out, holding their drawers...


while record execs continue to puff on fifty dollar cigars looking at pop charts trying to figure out how they are going to make the next self-deprecating black star


and, because there is so much apathy in the ghetto, they ain't gotta look far


and, since talent is no longer necessary, no matter where they look, there they are.


Thinking that hip-hop is ever going to return to the high lyrical content of the late eighties is absurd.


Cats no longer want to follow the leader, now they want to follow nigga' killers and black woman beaters and since no one forces us to watch BET and since no one forces us to buy them garbage-ass CDs and since no one forces us to support them no-talent-having-petty-thieves, I guess we simply get what we deserve.


Because if we really wanted to elevate ourselves through lyrical content in this new millennium, we would just listen to spoken word.

Lyrics by: Taalam Acey

Word.

[Too Much Coffee Woman]

sometimes on the train i see young black men who are fully immersed in the hip hop culture and to be honest they act like caricatures of hip hop stars

this one guy came onto a train, took out about 5,000 dollars and started counting it in front of everybody on the train

granted, he was in no danger...but is he trying to impress me with his big stack of the filthiest 20 dollar bills i've ever seen?

i think rap is a great musical style but it's certainly not a lifestyle

[ReggieX]

The Revolution Will Not Be Webcast by wunderhorn1 on 12:12 PM January 24th, 2002

The Revolution Will Not Be Webcast
(with apologies to Gil Scott-Heron)

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to jack in, log on, and zone out.
You will not be able to download pr0n and warez,
Eat ramen while waiting for a Flash movie to load,
Because the revolution will not be webcast.

The revolution will not be webcast.

The revolution will not be load-balanced by Akamai
Across huge server farms to maintain the proper bandwidth.
The revolution will not bring you .jpgs of Bill Gates
Giving a Powerpoint presentation with Steve
Ballmer, Jeff Raikes, and Craig Mundie to demonstrate
How .NET will change your computing experience.

The revolution will not be webcast.

The revolution will not be served to you by
Scott McNealy's Sun Microsystems and will not
feature a backend by Larry Ellison's Oracle.
The revolution will not optimize your internet connection.
The revolution will not consolidate all your debts into one easy monthly payment
The revolution will not let you punch the monkey
To win twenty dollars, because

The revolution will not be webcast, brother.

There will be no pictures of Sam Donaldson and Vint Cerf
At the Webby Awards in San Francisco with
Academy of Digital Arts and Sciences members Matt Groening and Beck.
Plastic, Peter Pan, PBS and Plus Magazine
Are not going to win crap.

The revolution will not be webcast.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
WTO Protesters on indymedia.com
There will be no pictures of ICANN board members
Receiving bribes from Network Solutions, Inc.
There will be no Real Video or JPEG stills of John
C. Dvorak muttering conspiracy theories and no articles by
Jon Katz with the bleeding heart that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Wired News, Salon.com, and Slashdot.org
will no longer be so damned relevant, and
No one will care what Wil Wheaton has to
Say on his weblog because the geeks
will be in the streets looking for a brighter day.

The revolution will not be webcast.

There will be no pages of webcams refreshing every
30 seconds with no pictures of half-naked women
Prancing and pimply-faced males scratching themselves.
The theme song will not be posted to MP3.com and
Will not be shared using Napster, Audiogalaxy, Gnutella,
iMesh, BearShare or Kazaa.

The revolution will not be webcast.

The revolution will never return a 404 Not Found,
403 Forbidden, or 500 Internal Server Error.
You will never have to worry about the virus in your
Email, the cracker at your firewall, or the bug in your OS.

The revolution will not waste 2 million dollars on a Superbowl Ad.

The revolution will not find you job opportunities.

The revolution WILL put you in the driver's seat.

The revolution will not be webcast, WILL not be webcast,
WILL NOT BE WEBCAST.

The revolution will not be in cyberspace, brothers;

The revolution will be live.

[ 05-15-2002: Message edited by: ReggieX ]

[ringo]

How to Kill a Radio Consultant
Public Enemy

Pusher of the button
Talkin' loud ain't sayin' nuttin'
The mack of the format gettin' fat
Ain't funny 'cause my neighborhood
Is flowin' money
Thank God 4 the boulevard
They keep the motor runnin'
The rap shows coincide wit' the tape flow
Bootleggers go inside and record the record low
They get me, get this now can you freestyle
Freestyle no styles free except da radio
But the radio controlled by the sucker move
Who moved away got away after plannin' a getaway
An now he wanna play what he wanna play
An got say on what is bumpin' of course he's gettin' somethin'
Never know what's good to tha neighborhood
Swear I never seen da sucker
In my necka da woods
The ass is connected to the brain stem
So I sing a simple song
So you can see the sucker in 'em

People got to make a call
To hear the yes y'all (yes y'all)
While the phone keep ringin'
You hear some singer singin'
Why don't dey play the jammy in the daytime
People think it's slammin' plus the rhyme
Is hot an got me tunin'
The afternoon is FM in the PM
Oh if that they could see 'im
Out-of-towner not down I think they'll dis him
Up goes the season, pop goes the weasel
Damn gimme rap no band I want some x-clan
I know dey even got it from the giddy
Stacked in the back
Only black radio station in the city
Programmed by a sucker in a suit
Slick back hair he don't even live here
Raps the number one pick so I draft it
I don't care about all the other demographics
When the quiet storm come on I fall sleep
What dey need is Arbitron on the funky jeep
Too bad it's goin' on in fact my word is bond
To pull a disappearin' act attack until he gone
The whacker jam he play they pay I'm in da day
I don't think we gonna miss 'im we don't need 'im anyway

Can I kick it
Who the hell is on the radio
Or who's behind
Do you really think they'll mind
To play the funky jams
That everybody wit'
Some Def Jef or Ice T
Show they rollin' wit' the syndicate
Or can dey get funky
Wit' the underground
Master ace get a taste
Bomb squad gettin' hard
Marley mart makin' hipper
Trax for Jack The Ripper
Pumpin' Eric B or Papa San
Still rollin' wit' run
Did you think that ever
In fact you thought that never
Control of your soul
Is by a suit and tie
Then U wonder why why U never hear a rhyme
I say we do 'im
Till it's done