| You are all…
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| We don’t even come to see our own, man.
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| Listen, Freddy, listen…
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| If we had to depend upon black people to eat,
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| We would starve to death.
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| You’ve been out there,
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| You on the bandstand,
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| You look out there, What do you see?
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| You see Japanese, you see… you see West Germans,
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| You see Slobovic, you know, anything, except our people man.
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| It makes no sense, it incenses me that our own people
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| Don’t realize our own heritage, our own culture.
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| This is our music.
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| That’s bullshit!
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| Why?
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| That’s all bullshit. |
| Everything, everything you just said is bullshit.
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| You’re complaining about-
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| I’m talking about the audience.
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| That’s right.
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| The people don’t come because you grandiose motherfuckers don’t play
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| shit that they like. |
| If you played the shit that they liked,
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| then the people would come.
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| Simple as that.
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| Inevitably, hip-hop records are treated as though they are disposable.
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| They are not maximized as product, not to mention as art.
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| First section is a scene from «Mo'Better Blues» by Spike Lee.
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| Second section is an unknown comment. |