The Movement

[Intro: Declaime]

Yeah...

Alright

Get funky now

[Pre-Chorus: Madlib & Declaime]

MC's (C's) – they flowing, spitting

DJ's (J's) – keep spinning, cutting

Graffiti writers (Writers) – keep bombing, tagging

B-boys (B-boys) – keep breaking, breaking

[Verse 1: Declaime]

Let me get down, with no hesitations

That deep dark poet from the Crate Digger station

Constantly I run through chumps

Giving lumps on the double

I smell trouble when we rumble (Rock it, Declaime)

For those that don't release fat rhymes, there's no relief

And I won't let up, when I get up on wack MC's

And as I increase my output to peak

I'm unique with these vocals, makе a speech that would hurt those (Hurt 'em up)

And find a new job, unto thе back of the line

Not new with this shit, for I have waited time

I find – ya'll take this art form for granted

Peace to the real, get your respect as demanded

See me? I just can't stand it (Stand it)

[Chorus: Madlib, Declaime, & Wildchild]

(Yo, who we down with?)

The movement makes your body want to get on down

The movement makes you want to react to this sound

The movement forms only on a Hip-Hop ground

The movement where b-boys and b-girls get found

[Verse 2: Madlib]

Declaime, aiyyo –

Remember back in the days when we first started

Uprocking with my blaster, playing it retarded?

"The Bridge Is Over," or remember when Main Source parted?

'Yo! MTV' darted, Public Enemy was the hardest

What about turntables, graffiti, breakdance, and rapping?

Some niggas don't know the four elements, it's like a fashion

Shows, be on some glitter shit, we on that Crate Digger shit

You tried to get rid of it, you better get use to it

It's like half of ya'll rappers is nitwits

Stuck on tits, clits, misfits, talkin' 'bout hits

And ya'll... ya'll ever heard of the L Brothers?

Or Cold Crush, Percee P, T La Rock, 

Michie Mee, Scott La Rock, 

Kool Herc, Charlie Chase in the place?

We live it like we in '88

I switch style plates, come great like the ones ya'll niggas write up

You niggas all get tied up

My nigga Declaime light up

When I'm writing, take a flight for the movement

[Chorus: Madlib, Declaime, & Wildchild]

The movement

The movement

The movement

[Verse 3: Wildchild]

Yo cats rock competable, soundin' incredible

Others be ineligible or capable

Of developing cool styles, earn residuals

My physical's forming, there isn't a warning

So, Jack'll come visibly unpredictably with the flow

It's pitiful, I'm acclaimed critically to commence a show

Kick a verse like–how should we say?

It'll literally light up your whole entire vital supply

So invite up, when we ride up your whole MC entire line up

'Cause your art is officially–artificial, as we

Walk down this alter, it's not hard to diss, you can weep

Slice your style up with sword and eat it

Jet Li mode, then come back and watch Jack formulate it

Yo, Madlib – jump on the SP and coordinate it

And I'll invert a verse right before the flute horn had faded

'Cause 95 percent of my fist will identically dismiss cats

'Til they fall on the deep side of the ocean, fill in the abyss

Jack's killing a fist full of MC's

Never slip, using the grip of a pistol pullin' at ease

Another film, another fanatic reframe the pro panic

It's too late, you're a mechanical mathematical mannequin – ask if you heard of a

Brother in a red Acura at an inaccurate lunch time, trying to emasc' an ill murderer

I send this rhyme out to my b-boys and my ladies

Declaime, lets mosh 'em up and backspin it to the 80's

[Pre-Chorus: Madlib & Declaime]

MC's (C's) – they flowing, spitting

DJ's (J's) – keep spinning, cutting

Graffiti writers (Writers) – keep bombing, tagging

B-boys (B-boys) – keep breaking, breaking

[Chorus: Madlib, Declaime, & Wildchild]

The movement makes your body want to get on down

The movement makes you want to react to this sound

The movement forms only on a Hip-Hop ground

The movement where b-boys and b-girls get found