If we gonna start from scratch, you start with wax,
If there's no dish, then there's no rap,
Records, albums, vinyl, the facts,
Give us a stack of records and we'll give you 12 tracks,
The agreement turned cement,
40 years ago,
Hip Hop, the vinyl frontier,
The embryo,
Two turnatables a mic and a cold stereo, DJ, one MC, the imperial,
Many many put their muse to it,
Sent bop, sent rock, sent blues through it,
From classical to jazz we can who's who it,
Or blow the dust off and groove to it,
Let's ride,
B-side on direct drive,
You know that crack'll give the best high,
Give me a needle, a cartridge, a partridge, some tree, 45's and a 33, let it be.
A new format hit the scene like way back,
It was smaller and more convenient than 8-track,
You could pop it in your car on a long drive,
Play the album or fast-forward to song five,
If you passed the song you had to rewind it back,
It was kind of frustrating trying to find a track,
Memorex, Ampex down to TDK,
Where the Biz was on the radio with BDK,
When they was on the air, I was on the pause-button,
I had the best taste but I ain't trying to cause nothing,
Cause everybody thought their paws was the raws,
Cats used to battle, this shit used to cause wars,
We would trade tapes, that was the best it could be,
Busy Bee had the fever for Treacherous Three,
Having the best tapes, was like a status symbol,
The yellow tape, purple tape to the baddest demo,
Battles travel from the Bronx to Baltimore,
They would stand by the speaker to record them all,
Them same tapes that was labeled with a thick marker,
Made the neighbourhood rappers want to spit sharper,
If my tape pop trust, I was ready man,
A razor blade, scotch tape and a steady hand,
I call it surgery,
My cassette went under the knife and brought back to life,
Man that worth it to me.
If you want it, I got it
That which makes you move
Its... the format baby"
If you want it, I got it
That which makes you move
"Its... the format baby
My relationship with bass and kicks had come full circle
Plastic and cheap but I clapped to the beat
Stab the repeat button and keep running
And that's somthing you can't get from tape dubbing
Skip the skips with a flick of the wrist
More time to check what's sick on the list
The fickle dismissed this little digital disk
But try and play vinyl in the whip, it'll skip
And it's '96, I'm trying to get laid now
Chose the format with binary laid down
1s and 0s, and 0s and 1s, flood the BOSE with flows and drums
Blunts get blown in my homie's truck
We sitting on chrome, little bone thugs
We got wheels, we ain't trying to walk man
CD's nuts, there's dust on my walkman
Follow me entering this digital odyssey
Holy matrimony but harder to see
Everywhere but non-existant, what a conundrum
Upgraded but they say we forgot where we come from
The past feels even further with every second
Off the record, the coming and going of Kbps
In the day of the instant message
The message is misdirected and the receiver seems to be disconnected
But don't complain, love game
Even after the flood came and left our neighbors over-saturated
With no computer love, just computer bugs
Hate the virus and not the hacker, that's what a loser does
Meanwhile, the kids are playing shoot em' ups
Trying to be the 2.0 version of Super Thug
Press reset, any era you wish to visit is next
Hold on as we eject.

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