The Chest of Hip Hop

In the chest of hip hop, there lies a hole…

Gapping like surgery of the open heart type…  African Drums, tumble and crumble and rumble, like mumbles of thunder in the jungle at night… 

You emit a light in the world full of darkness, never lost blackness,  never lost passion,  never lost facts,

Its hip-hop,

In the,

Purest form, deep like bass is… to make microphone fiends high like treble…

In the chest of hip hop lay the rhythm and the rebel,

The good, the bad, ugly,

The god the human, the devil,

 you wordlessly spoke on the truest of levels…

With the passion of a manage… You paint a collage that would make Picasso blush…

You touched us with pro-tools the way he did with brush…  You made love to the track, while others simply lust…

See, “You are love… You made it unselfish, made us feel empowered at the same time helpless…”   your ruff draft is beauty,

 beauty like black is…

how you empower the weak and made the underground respected by the masses, like Joe Luis did and in later years Cashis,

you spoke to, proletariat, so serious , soulquarians, Aquarius,  in the chest of hip hop there lies a hole, dripping wetter than aquariums,

You filled that hole with the soul that can’t be sampled, can’t be contained, can’t be handled by anything earthly…

You welcomed the world to Detroit then took us on a fantastic voyage through the village of slums,

with more muse than the middle passage… and because 1 wouldn’t do and 2 was not enough for you no…

You worked as a slave to the art…

Your plantation?   The studio. 

You made us go nut’s in this age of shining rims on donuts, you hit us with the soul of The Shining then Donuts…

Hip Hop, you never sold it out, yet and still, you sold us,

on that which some pronounce deceased,

Yet, even though you’re gone and it’s gone… you and it still lives through your beats…   

 In the chest of hip hop, there lies a hole…

When you passed, so did its heart, but you left us with its soul…

But where’s the love????

There’s no love…