“…Salute the God/shooter squad/impeccable General like I’m Bonaparte/ play your part get consumed by the dark when the heaters spark overstand the heart of one man who grind with a smarter plan/lay low, moving in silence while niggas play they hand/alpha male/alpha omega/you just a lesser man/Queensbridge, honor mine/you need to honor yours…”
We learn of the MC as Mic Controllers and Men who Create Music of Content. Making money with still strict barriers, taking some, leaving others and to the best of their ability, always for the principle in their mind of integrity. Integrity rocked at one jam long ago and being the only damned pure thing we can have sometimes. And so we’ll make, take thousands but we don’t want them to sell out shake or funk fake just for millions. So only the best can make it and the most greatest grinders among them live off it. Now, media of all forms bloated, reveal they are men changing, some of them had skills and became hypocritized men chained talking in rhyme. So the fortitude of the stance is what we got to respect and when that rare MC transmutes Tragedy and exalts it through commands as strong as Khadafi’s then we celebrate it. We honor the choice of a tough Shroom pilling the beat with the thuds perfectly mushing Thea’s vocals into the bassdrummed room. Head nods help us hold the lyrics better and when we see the verses of a veteran on the victorious day, we can groove ourselves A-Alike and walk with a tougher score in this worldwide harshness.