The Chosen - Scriptures of the Street

Bring back the boom bap, the beats that inspire Rhymes that had weight, true facts we admire Tales from the streets that would preach to the choir 90's sound profound, time to rewire East Coast flow, where the essence arose Lyricism reigned and the culture it chose Baggy jeans, Timbs, and the freshest of clothes Graff on the trains, DJ scratches on those Realness in every bar, truth on the vinyl Seeking something deeper than cash or a title Reflecting on the days when the mic meant respect Back then you had a message, not just cashing a check When every lyric was a lifeline, the truth in the text Now everybody's mumbling, not caring what's next Where did the storytellers go, the beat breakers, the roots Now it's all about the flash, the cash, the designer boots Miss the battles on the corner, the cyphers in parks Not these empty auto-tunes that miss the lyrical marks We need the Renaissance of rhythm, the return of the craft Where every line's a heavy hitter, not a throwaway laugh Let's resurrect the culture, the art of the wordplay Rhyme books filled with wisdom, not just hearsay Turntables spinning, creating new paths Not these hollow beats, we need that raw boom bap Where's the crowd that understands the power of the prose Not swayed by gold chains or the flash of bankrolls I long for the era of the intellectual spitter When every rapper was a poet, a philosopher, a winner Bring back the cipher, restore the essence When rap was an art, not a fleeting presence We crave the art, the stories, the legends untold Not this shallow bling rap that's trite and it's old Yearning for the giants on whose shoulders we stood Dropping knowledge over beats in every neighborhood A call back to the time when skill was a must When verses had power and a mic was trust We were building empires with the words we'd spit Now it's all about the likes, the clicks, the quick hit Bring back the rawness, the poetry of the street The soundtracks of life that made you move your feet Nostalgia in my headphones, playin' tracks of the greats Thinking 'bout lyrical skills, not just fortune and fates We didn't flow for the fame, we were telling our stories Life etched in each verse, the pain and the glories Mixtapes pumped with the sound of the boom and the bap Words that would hit you harder than a thunderclap Back when emcees were your street's philosophers Spittin' rhymes packed tighter than a room full of scholars In the era of legends, where the mixtape was king Our verses were scriptures, teachings they'd bring