Dear Dilla

Dilla dawg, had a dream about you, fam It's 2005 We in the same hospital room You on one side, I'm on the other I'm stressed out But, what gave me motivation is you pullin' out that MP And bangin' out some bangers as usual Nothin' ever phased you fam, and for that (let's go) I miss you Uh, dear Dilla (yeah, yeah) Yeah (uh) D-Town, throw it up (turn it up) NYC, throw it up (yeah, yeah) The whole world, throw it up BK, uh Hold tight, this ain't the last time I see you (uh) Due time, that's my word, I'ma see you (turn it up) Frontin' ass rappers now here stealin' intros Posin' like they hard (go!), when we know they all (uh) see through I'ma tell you, Dilla, why they lackin' skills now (uh) No stage presence, cadence, style (uh) They livin' (Jay Dee) off of hooks (yep), skinny jean crooks (uh) Pre-K lyrics, why would I need a book? I reminisce, reminisce when Mobb dropped shook (uh) Shan was down by law (uh), such a good look (go!) Nas, God's Son and his return was Stillmatic Distortion to Static (turn it up another notch), you and Slum Fantastic (uh) Thought I'd chop you out, son, see how you're doin' (uh) Come back to earth, homie, hip hop is in ruins (it's the official) I'm a third of the Tribe but, I'ma speak for the clique What up though, we miss you (live niggas, throw it up), kid, Motor City say Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay (hey-hey, hey, hey, hey) (Yeah, yeah) Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay (turn it up) (Yeah, yeah) Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay (Yeah, yeah) Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay (Uh) Yeah, yeah, beat-wise (let's go), you still that cat which most shit be measured (uh) I'm that MC known to share his displeasure (real talk y'all) With the route the game is taking, how mundane things have gotten You know, music on a whole? Never mind just hip-hoppin' (uh) I'm in the club, three hours and change (uh) DJ spinnin' Top 40, we be hearin' all day Some MCs are catalog, and yeah, they stay paid But why pay over one buck, when they lip syncin' on stage? (uh) King of pop, Barry White, rollin' over in they grave (uh) Jones Girls, Emotions singin' back in our day (this the official) Dilla dude still crackin', they wish to be like you Producer extraordinaires (yeah, yeah), knowing their beats be recycled (uh) But on your worst day, they couldn't mess with you (uh) Cats makin' Ts in remembrance of you (we got that banks) Least they could do is give your fam a dime or two This man gave his heart (go!), this what the fuck y'all do? (uh) But yo, don't stress, mind you, word bond, we got you Tell Baatin I said what up, word, he right next to you? (Yeah) So, NYC to the D, with heavy hearts we miss you Word, God, wish you were here, so until we meet again just (Jay) flip another beat for me, Jay (Yeah, yeah) Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay (want you right here in the world) (Yeah, yeah) Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay (take my chances be-) (Yeah, yeah) Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay (players) Uh, yeah (Dilla, Dilla) Yeah (Dewitt, 'cause you know how we do) (Turn it up another notch) (Dilla, b-bounce in your whip) Uh Yeah, you know Ma dukes (uh) V. Rich on the keys My main man, DJ Rasta Roots (uh) on the beat (hold tight), on the cuts Smokin Needles, Riddim Kids, salute ATCQ forever...