Children's Story

Once upon a time not long ago

When people wore Adidas and lived life slow

When laws were stern and justice stood

And people was behavin' like Hip-Hop was good

There lived a little boy who was misled

By a little Sha-tan and this is what he said

"Me and you kid we gonna make some cash

Jackin' old beats and makin' the dash"

They jacked the beats, money came with ease

But son, he couldn't stop, it's like he had a disease

He jacked another and another, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder

Set some R & B over the track for "Deep Cover" (187!)

The kid got wild, started actin' erratic

He said, "Yo, that presidential I got to have it"

With liquor in his belly son, he made up the track

But little did he know that his joints was wack

The shiny A&R said, "Great new hit, G!"

"Whenever you need a loop, yo, come get me"

The kid got amped and he starts to figure

"I'ma get dough like all of these other ****!"

So, he's in the studio workin' 'round the clock for pop radio

Jacked the beat to 'Planet Rock'

Was out in the street when he met this sister

Who couldn't sing for shhh but the mix would assist her

Hooked up the track and in excitation

He decided he'd head for the radio station, but (What?)

He was runnin' and he made a left

Was skeezin' at top speed and ran into Mos Def

I slowed the young man down and I started, "Yo money, yo, why you sellin' lies to our wives and children?"

He ran upstairs up to the top floor (Floor)

Opened up the door, then guess who he saw? (Who?)

Jane the chickenhead radio host

Who be yappin' 'bout beef between East and West Coast

He said, "This one's a bullet, you got to give it run!"

The chicken said, "Thanks" and spanked it number one

He went outside, was gettin' props all over, then he dipped into his ride, the 4-point Rover

Raced up the block doin' eighty-three (Three)

Some cats with Hennessy saw him at a R-E-D (D)

He winked his eye like his star status mattered

They rat-a-tat-tatted to make his blood splatter

"You rockin' crazy ice and all you do is cling static

And rollin' out in Brooklyn late night is problematic"

His eyes was bloody red, he hung on every word they said

They told the kid, "Back down, that player shit is dead"

Deep in his heart, he knew he was gone

But he grabbed his .45 and decide to blaze on (Uh)

With shades on founded had him astounded and

Before long the young man got surrounded

Those grabbed the guns, so goes the glory

And this is the way I got to end this story

He was out chasin' C.R.E.A.M. and the American dream

Tryin' to pretend the ends justify the means

This ain't funny so don't you dare laugh

It's just what comes to pass when you sell your ass

Life is more than what your hands can grasp

Good night!

Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos

Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos

Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos

Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos

Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos

Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos

Knock 'em out

Another, Mos Def, Black Star Movement

Presentation

Crumbs!