<> page <A Matter Of Time> album page |
1979 (Remix)[Intro: Suffa]Know what I'm saying, in nineteen-seventy-nine I was a two-year-old kid from Adelaide I wasn't a fourteen-year-old kid from the Bronx It seems to me that in nineteen-ninety-nine Hip-hop's a business, in nineteen-seventy-nine it's culture And I miss it [Verse 1: Suffa] You're so fake, it's plain to see who you truly are Looking less like a b-boy, more like a movie star Forget the funk and go hook up those disco breaks Sit down punk and take a look at what you make It's not hip-hop, it's something more sad, sick and seedy What's popping that Gucci got to do with graffiti? And your R&B dance-steps, what about finger-popping B-boy electric shocking, windmills, body rocking? So body-body rock, body-body rock, I take it back Break your back, realise b-boys aren't faking that Funk that you've forgotten hoe, how could you have gotten so Far gone that you could never stop and go Back to the roots, nineteen-seventy-nine Birth place of the scratch, birth place of the rhyme Feel it in your spine like your first taste of wine We'll make it back; it'll just take some time [Hook: Suffa] Remember Kangol hats, fat laces and lino mats Kids spinning on their backs to the Sugarhill wax Now the sugar hills collapsed and the sweets turned sour Money's walking my culture through its darkest hour Now I wanna take you back, walk along through time I was two years old in nineteen-seventy-nine But it's a time that I miss; you ask "What's the difference?" Hip-hop was then a culture, now hip-hop's a business [Turntablism: DJ Next] "The—The music—The—The—The music The—The—The music—The—The—The music The—The—The music—The—The—The music The music of our youth From—From nineteen—From—From—From nineteen Nine—Nine—Nineteen-seventy-nine Nine—Nineteen-seven—Nineteen-sev— Nineteen-sev—sev—seventy-nine [Verse 2: Suffa] Zulu's started b-boying as a form of expression To channel youths stress and their aggression, now through the suggestion Of record companies MC's are pumping these Problems back into your section (And isn't it ironic?) But not the sort that makes you laugh 'Cause MC's are building futures by raping the past Taking a glass of Chardonnay and putting it to your lips I'd rather take a razor blade and put it to my wrist Than sell records on the basis that I have to promote Sniffing and selling coke, toting guns and smoking dope You're all weaving the rope that you'll hang yourself with My only consolation is within the hip-hop nation is B-boy elements that could still get me open Like Graff mags from Berlin, mixtapes from Oakland Breakers from Rock Steady, plus anything from Tribe And old school New York that's still got the vibe [Hook: Suffa] Remember Kangol hats, fat laces and lino mats Kids spinning on their backs to the Sugarhill wax Now the sugar hills collapsed and the sweets turned sour Money's walking my culture through its darkest hour Now I wanna take you back, walk along through time I was two years old in nineteen-seventy-nine But it's a time that I miss; you ask "What's the difference?" Hip-hop was then a culture, now hip-hop's a business [Turntablism: DJ Next] "The—The music—The—The—The music The—The—The music—The—The—The music The—The—The music—The—The—The music The music of our youth From—From nineteen—From—From—From nineteen From—From nineteen—From—From—From nineteen Nine—Nineteen-seven—Nineteen-sev— Nineteen-sev—sev—seventy-nine |