The Dig

[Rap sample:] I got more beats… you know there’s no one finer… You know there’s no one finer… motherfucker… I know a lot of spots that I ain’t putting you up on… You know there’s no one finer… you know there’s… [Rap sample:] Digging in the crate [Spoken sample:] All the time [Rap sample:] Digging in the crate [Spoken sample:] Right on! (x2) [Thes One:] We got forty crates, black plates, rare grooves, breaks No 78’s, Vietnam era United States American funk, private label on major turntables Sunken treasures that’s in the 4/4 measures Now life’s only pleasures is digging, I do it often So when I die, don’t cry, put my records in a coffin And bury me next to a very big tree with my MPC So they won’t warp, as a corpse, remember me As a daily beat digger that figured out better ways Of tracking down vinyl, like working at Rhino in the good old days When the pay came, raised the notch, new spots Friends with owners, under counters, digging through the new box 45 shoebox to understock rock, records before gas Wood and glass, fuck it, I’ll walk for weeks And sacrifice heats, looking for beats that coalesce With chronic, like this here 45 on Microtronics New spots, harmonic to sonic, enhance my life My records are my children, my ancestors, and my wife They’re there for me, carefully picked and never bit My record karma stays stronger than the record by the Biz I known places you don’t, did places you won’t Yo, fuck a loop-digger in my city, man, just stay home You see me by a pay phone on Normandie and King Don’t wonder why as you drive by, I’m doing one thing Head down, studying my music like Schroeder Daily digging dust missions wearing out my motor Fingers full of warts, back aching, arch support failing Two hours to a new spot, fuck it, we still bailing In my ride, digging worldwide, bringing heritage home Reconnaissance, innosense, Renaissance elements Evidence of long lost musical intelligence, big-picture relevance [Rap sample:] Digging in the crate (scratched and repeated) [Thes One:] The only way my life makes sense I’m two weeks late paying my rent I’m digging out the past and the present And now my fucking money’s being spent The only way my life makes sense I’m two weeks late paying my rent I’m digging out the past and the present The only way my life makes sense [Double K:] (Check it out…) I get my records insured before the life coverage Up in my room all day, y’all say I’m on some other shit Digging through the blue, grey, yellow, and green crates Like I’ve never done it before, got records scattered on the floor Got records hanging on the wall and in my bathroom, too Got stacks up in the hallway, let me put this another way Yo, I don’t give a record dealer nothing but cold cash And a hard time, pats on my back, ‘cause now I’m doing fine Vinyl is like food, fool, I need it to live My fingertips been touching wax since I was a small kid And ever since I been a big Double, it’s kinda bad I sit and just listen to all the money that I had I drop ten on some smoke, you know where the rest goes More money to listen to, never dressing for the hoes Fuck clothes, DVD, or holiday and real estate, relationships and bullshit Ay-yo, I’m digging through the ([Spoken sample:] Crates) [Rap sample:] Digging for shit… then I’m going back (repeated and scratched) ([Double K:] Ha! Hey, Thes, we cooling out right here, boy… yeah… ?… hey, alright, aw, fuck it, man, I’ve seen it all, it don’t matter, man, it ain’t worth it, it’s all good… aw, what’s that right there? Ha ha! That’s why I’m going digging, man! ? no more… [Spoken sample:] [Homie #1:] You remember in Cali when I grabbed one of your… we threw ‘em up, yo, we was in Hollywood, right? We’s in Hollywood, I grabbed him up, you took his gold, he ain’t do nothing, we still got the gold to this day [Homie #2:] We taxed the kid! [Homie #3:] Yo, man, I ain’t never been… [Homie #2:] We taxed him… [Homie #3:] We gonna tax him again [Homie #1:] And again [Homie #3:] So just keep your mouth closed [Homie #1:] I ain’t never been taxed before