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Self-explicatory title February 20, 2009

Posted by Domenico in Music.

Let’s close this week with something hippy-hoppy-happy.

Let’s talk about the Dead Prez.

This American underground hip hop duo is formed by “stic.man” and “M-1” (this one seems to be the floor close to the commissary). They are known for their political lyrics and the style combined with socialist and pan-Africanism. They talk about revolution, veganism, institutional racism, critical pedagogy, police, capitalism, education, prison systems, religion, activism against governmental repression, and corporate control over the media, especially hip-hop record labels.

The most famous song that I know from this band is “Hip Hop” and I share that with you, as a right closure for the present week:

Enjoy the weekend.




1. Gio - February 20, 2009


Uh, uh, uh, 1, 2, 1, 2
Uh, uh, 1, 2, 1, 2, uh, uh
All my dogs


Its bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip
Its bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip hop

Uh, one thing bout music, when it hit you feel no pain
White folks say it controls your brain
I know better than that, thats game and we ready for that
Two soldiers head of the pack, matter of fact who got the gat?
And where my army at?
Rather attack and not react
Back the beats, it dont reflect on how many records get sold
On sex, drugs, and rock and roll, whether your projects put on hold
In the real world, these just people with ideas
They just like me and you when the smoke and camera disappear
Again the real world (world), its bigger than all these fake ass records
When poor folks got the millions and my womans disrespected
If you check 1,2, my word of advice to you is just relax
Just do what you got to do, if that dont work then kick the facts
If you a fighter, rider, ? bouter? , flame ignitor, crowd exciter
Or you wanna just get high, then just say it
But then if you a liar-liar, pants on fire, wolf-cry agent with a wire
Im gonna know it when I play it


Uh, who shot biggie smalls?
If we dont get them, they gonna get us all
Im down for runnin up on them crackers in they city hall
We ride for yall, all my dogs stay real
Nigga dont think these record deals gonna feed your seeds
And pay your bills because they not
Mcs get a little bit of love and think they hot
Talkin bout how much money they got, all yall records sound the same
I sick of that fake thug, r & b, rap scenario all day on the radio
Same scenes in the video, monotonous material, yall dont here me though
These record labels slang our tapes like dope
You can be next in line, and signed, and still be writing rhymes and broke
You would rather have a lexus, some justice, a dream or some substance?
A beamer, a necklace or freedom?
Still a nigga like me dont playa hate, I just stay awake
This real hip hop, and it dont stop until we get the po-po off the block
They call it….


Uh, dps got that crazy shit we keep it crunk up
John blazed and shit what


Fake, fake, fake records

2. Andrea - February 20, 2009

yup. whatever.

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