| «My man, JD, was a true hip hop artist
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| … I can’t explain the influence that
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| His mind and ear have had on my band
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| Myself and the careers of so many other
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| Artists. |
| The most humble, modest, worthy
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| And gifted beatmaker I’ve known. |
| And
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| Definitely the best producer on the mic
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| Never without that signature smile and head
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| Bouncin' to the beat. |
| JD had a passion for
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| Life and music, and will never be forgotten
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| He’s a brother that was loved by me, and I
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| Love what he’s done for us. |
| And though I’m
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| Happy he’s no longer in the pain he’d been
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| Recently feelin', I’m crushed by the pain of
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| His absence. |
| Name’s Dilla Dog and I can only
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| Rep the real and raw. |
| My man, Dilla, rest in
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| Peace.»
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| Last of the red hot hip-hop lovin' emcees
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| That came up on grits and government cheese
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| The only thing I ever really loved in my life, was a mic
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| Some of my niggas fell in love with MPs, come on
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| Work the bass, nigga, juggle them keys
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| I’m tryin’a get a piece of this government green
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| And smack 'em in the melon with another LP
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| C’mon, help a couple people in the struggle get free
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| We from the block, where people stay prepared to rock
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| And it’s hard, cause opportunity be scared to knock
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| And mo' people in the 'hood found dead from cops
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| Than guns that drop, that sprayed off random shots
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| But whatcha know good, people say they in the hood fo' good
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| You ain’t a prisoner, the world got mo' to it
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| Sky’s the limit, it don’t take but a minute
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| Don’t fear for your people, nigga, my hood yo hood
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| Yeah… We did it…
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| I know in these tryin' times it feels confusin'
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| That’s why I can’t tell y’all to dance to the music
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| Unless, we face it first and try not to lose it
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| Even if it gets worse, they can’t stop this (stop this)
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| Can’t Stop This, I want my peoples to rock this
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| Bang this music in your speakers and boxes
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| Langston Hughes is about as a deep as my thoughts is
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| Sit back and I’mma paint you a portrait
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| Disgust can make you think that you’ve lost it
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| This shit can have you exhausted
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| Just, picture the planet and imagine it’s yours, kid
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| Don’t ever let nobody knock you outta your orbit
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| I never seen a bridge we couldn’t shuffle across it
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| We got a lotta people livin' a life, that’s pure trivia
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| Real hip hop, and they tryin’a get rid of ya
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| Can’t have that, because here come, the city of Philly
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| Put an end to all the trivia really
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| Where I’m walkin' everybody ain’t pretty or friendly
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| It’s work, my whole life they ain’t give me a penny
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| Comin' up between a rock and a hard, watchin' for God
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| People hip hopping with no option at all
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| Yo … it’s how it’s goin' down…
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| I know in these tryin' times it feels confusin'
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| That’s why I can’t tell y’all to dance to the music
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| Unless, we face it first and try not to lose it
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| Even if it gets worse, they can’t stop this (stop this)
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| We ripping hearts to pieces parts of raps a special sound
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| The robe’s long enough to be considered a gown
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| Thought’s brim is sharp enough to be considered a crown
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| When the plate come, take some, pass it around
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| It’s the last of the hip hop lovin' emcees
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| In front of an audience that never been pleased
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| I’m comin' from all the streets that never been cleaned
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| And speakin' for any face that never been seen
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| This debonair style of my words is high-calibre
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| Speakin' my mind for every day that’s on the calendar
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| Cause I done been quiet, about as long as I can handle it
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| Walked a mile in these boots that I’m standin' in
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| Mellow soul brother with his lyrical dean on
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| The stages I’m seen on, mic I fiend on
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| When a song full of soul, that’s when it mean more
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| I never hesitate to give a shoulder to lean on, yo
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| … Check it out, man
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| I know in these tryin' times it feels confusin'
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| That’s why I can’t tell y’all to dance to the music
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| Unless, we face it first and try not to lose it
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| Even if it gets worse, they can’t stop this (stop this) |