connecting*the*dots

I found this striking mural a few months back while knee deep in my late night Flickr ritual of browsing imagery by contextual navigation of topical tags. As the night wore on I drifted from tags like art to street art to graffiti, eventually resting on Malcolm X.

After staring at the shot for a few minutes, I realized why this particular image struck me — on two distinct levels:

• The mere existence of such a powerful representation of Malcolm X and his words embedded in the public square for all to see
• The absence of his complete representation, both physical and philosophical, due to elemental deterioration over time

In the real world — before the internet created another dimension for the documentation of expression and our collective histories — all atom based elements had a shelf life.

Street art, by it’s very nature, had even a shorter life span.

But here I was, stumbling across this deteriorating, real world representation, frozen in time (at what point in time I have no idea) by someone who made an explicit decision to digitize the real for the sake of posterity.

Without the internet, this work — this message — might have already drifted away from our consciousness.

Speaking of the message, only a few lines of Malcolm X’s quote remained legible in it’s original format. It seemed familiar to me, so I took a few moments to run a Google search of the words I could decipher.

Thanks to the collective participation of people publishing to the internet, within a matter of moments, I was able to piece together the original context of the quote from the mural:

“With every succeeding page, I also learned of people and places and events from history. Actually the dictionary is like a miniature encyclopedia. Finally the dictionary’s A section had filled a whole tablet — and I went on into the B’s. That was the way I started copying what eventually became the entire dictionary.”

Context is knowledge, so I circled back to the image and added the text that would have surrounded the original quote on the wall if the wall were 50 feet high.

The Internet On This Day

Eighty-two years ago today, Malcolm X was born Malcolm Little to Earl Little and Louise Helen in Omaha, Nebraska.

Depending on your company, Malcolm X is often remembered as either an inspiration — an educated, revolutionary, evolutionary force — or an extremist that preached hate.

Without the internet, the latter of these two descriptions could easily edify his legacy for future generations to come.

With the internet, we have context of evolution and truth:

The Early Years In The Nation Of Islam

Debating At Oxford University

Returning From Mecca

A New Direction, Seeing Death In The Distance

The Assassination Of Malcolm X

Paying Tribute

Living In His Footsteps

Our Collective Responsibility

Prior to the internet, the reality of our lives drifted into the annals of time and both the discrete and general narratives of history were crafted by those with the power to publish and distribute knowledge.

Today, we must recognize the importance and responsibilities of living in a digital age.

It is our responsibility that we be vigilant in documenting our knowledge for the serendipitous discovery of our fellow man, both today and years into the future — no matter our focus or industry.

Because if it’s not us taking advantage of this platform, the traditional owners of history will be more than happy to seep into play and stake their claim.

And that would be a wasted opportunity to make his-tory, our-story.

(originally uploaded by Steve Rhodes)

Question: Who’s the man in the above picture?

I admit the visual reference might not be enough for anyone that isn’t a Hip hop head, so I’ll give you even more of a hint:

Sorry for the set-up; I wouldn’t expect many people to know that he’s Boots Riley from The Coup.

I also wouldn’t expect many people to know the depth of the man and his music.

Or even that Boots blogs.

I’m using Boots as just one example of someone who represents one particular slice of a culture, Hip hop, that most people don’t know anything about — no matter what they think.

More on Boots and his colleagues in a bit.

What You Hear Is Not A Test

Today, Ed Cone ventured into a pretty lightweight deconstruction of “rap” lyrics, and only after numerous people and media outlets — local and from afar — made a stink about Don Imus catching flak for his pointed remarks a few weeks back, arguing that African-Americans and/or “rappers” actually drive the use of this harmful language.

Ed’s introduction to his column:

[…] “For my newspaper column, I listened to the lyrics of Billboard’s top ten rap tracks and tried to contextualize the Imus affair.” […]

I can’t remember the last time someone in Hip hop, out-of-the-blue, verbally assaulted a specific group of innocent people like the Rutger’s Women’s Basketball team. Admittedly, I’m not twisting the context of the offense to the use of a particular word or phrase and instead, keeping it focused on the nature of the attack from a broadcaster.

Along those lines, IMO, it would be more productive to review the context of Imus’ bile by looking at the rest of the shock-jock industry, like this gem from Neil Bortz:

Boortz: For instance, or for goodness sakes, jump in and I’m gonna say — I’m gonna start out with something controversial. I saw Cynthia McKinney’s new hair-do. Have you seen it, Belinda?

Skelton: No.

Boortz: She looks like a ghetto slut.

Skelton: Well, how is it?

Boortz: It’s just — it’s hideous.

Skelton: Is it braided? Or –

Boortz: No, it’s not braided. It just flies away from her head in every conceivable direction. It looks like an explosion in a Brillo pad factory. It’s just hideous. To me, that hairstyle just shows contempt for — no, it’s not an Afro. I mean, no, it just shows contempt for the position that she holds and the body that she serves in. And, I’m sorry, there’s just no other way to — it’s just a hideous and horrible looking –

Marshall: It looks better than the braids she was wearing.

Boortz: No, the braids had some dignity. They had some class.

Marshall: The braids had dignity?

Boortz: They had more class than this thing.

Marshall: This says, you know, kinda 2000s, you know, stepping up to the plate. Contemporary look, you know?

Boortz: She looks like Tina Turner peeing on an electric fence.

Pam has great context for those of you who might think of these comments as harmless.

But the point of this post isn’t about Don Imus, nor is it about those people out there that are obfuscating the context of his comment. There’s a whole other angle of misinformation in Ed’s post, based more in ignorance than intent, that I wish to dissect.

I’m One Of A Kind And I’ll Shock Your Mind

Whether he knows it or not, Ed made a bunch of generalizations in his column. This particular paragraph stood out the most to me:

[…] “I’m bothered not just by what rappers say but why they say it. The lyrics and the popularity of the genre aren’t happening in a vacuum; they reflect something about the realities of a larger culture that is coarse, consumerist and often violent. Public Enemy’s Chuck D famously said that rap is like “CNN for black people.” Maybe part of the problem is that these days, the best-known member of the socially conscious Public Enemy is Flava Flav, who once rapped about the harsh reality of life in poor neighborhoods but now does clownish “reality” shows on corporate television.” […]

People like to talk about Hip hop as if they know everything about anything, so I’m not surprised by Ed’s perspective — even with him being alive during The Sugarhill Gang’s debut.

How Ed jumps from “a larger culture that is coarse, consumerist and often violent” to Public Enemy — without pause for at least a paragraph on the current administration of the Executive Branch — is beyond me.

You know, it wasn’t Flavor Flav that told America to go out and buy shit just a few days after the towers went down on 9/11.

I’ll play along for shits and giggles, though.

So, Flav has become the king of reality tv, but as the de facto hype man in the carefully orchestrated membership of Public Enemy — something that would take another post entirely to detail — that shouldn’t shock anyone.

Flav was never the point man of PE, the guy “rapping about the harsh reality of life in poor neighborhoods.” For every 911’s A Joke, there are a hundred songs with Flav explicitly playin’ his role in the group as comic relief while shadowing Chuck.

So how does that play out 20 years beyond the zenith of Public Enemy’s career?

While Flav does his reality tv and flashes his grill, Chuck D does his speaking gigs and radio shows covering everything from anti-DRM to politics. The whole of Public Enemy prospers from their individual focuses — which draw in new audiences from distinct demographics — far more than simply being a sum of its parts.

But if you’ve seen any of the Flavor of Love shows, you know that he doesn’t represent himself as a foul-mouthed “rapper.” I honestly don’t see how Flav acting like Flav with a viking cap and oversized clock necklace and sunglasses has anything to do with the topic at hand — except for serving as a convenient segue from the bridge of the CNN line.

All that said, Ed is pretty much on point when he ruminates over “rap” lyrics and the ills of a larger culture.

The point begging to be made about this particular element — the crux of his column — is that he doesn’t realize to what degree and how narrow of a focus that truly is within the culture of Hip hop.

What we need is the Teacher to break this down to a digestible format:

More KRS-One:

(by thecnote)

[…] “ ‘Hip hop has nothing to do with rap. Rap is an element. There is a consciousness that makes you rap, graffiti or break, for example.’

KRS-One talked a great deal about the importance of being one’s own self, the most essential part of Hip hop culture. ‘Hip hop begins with the courage to be yourself. Being you has consequences,’ KRS-One said.

Want to find out if you’re Hip hop? You know you are if ‘you gravitate toward it. You see graffiti art and you try to make out the words, you see breaking and you say, ‘Man, I could do that,’ KRS-One said.

And, of course, one should know the proper way to actually identify the culture. Hip hop is a culture; therefore, it should function as a proper noun. Hip hop is the music, and referring to the culture in the hyphenated form, KRS-One claimed, is degrading. The rapper’s explanations of the technicalities of the Hip hop world could have left audience member confused; if Hip hop is not the music, what is?

Listeners were enlightened about the differences between Hip hop and rap. ‘Hip hop is not rap music,’ KRS-One said. ‘Rap is controlled by corporations. A rapper rhymes for corporations, and an emcee rhymes for culture. A rapper talks about himself, what he has. An emcee talks about what’s already on your mind. An emcee raps about what you need, not about fantasy.‘ Ultimately, a point stressed heavily throughout the night, Hip hop is something that is lived, a consciousness of the world around us.” […]

That’s a much more expansive description of Hip hop than “rappers” being misogynistic and foul-mouthed, but culture can’t be locked down to one set of definitions either — passing the mic back to Boots Riley, from a long, lost interview at Davey D’s spot:

(by bagelradio)

[…] “When the first Sugarhill Gang record came out and it was on the radio I was already living in Oakland then but there were people who had recently moved out here from the mid west and the south and I remember us saying they had a hambone record out on the radio. My whole thing with that is there’s a lot of elements of hip hop… like the four elements of hip hop is really just a commercialization and a way to commodify things because you have to put things into easy categories in order to sell it. It’s a lot easier to sell as an invention that kind of slipped and fell together by a series of events that happened in one place than it is to tell it as a history of a people. So that’s something that I feel is left out of hip hop. That was my first connection to rapping [hamboning]. Another more obvious one is beatboxing. That was something that was very much a part of hip hop. I first started hearing the four elements maybe from the early 90s. I don’t know who started that but it’s full of shit to me.” […]

Contradicting, yet accentuating points of view within a culture — a hell of a lot deeper than “bitch” and “ho” framed within the bullshit corporate constructs of a genre.

The CNN For ALL People Who Care To Tune-In

If all this isn’t new to you, glad to have you in my digs. To those of you who are learning something new, you might just dig checking out a few CTD alumni.

One bit of advice: focus on the message, the intent and the wordplay — leave the curse count for Tipper Gore.

• De La Soul
• Immortal Technique
• The Roots
• Public Enemy / Paris
• The Coup
• Brand Nubian / Common
• Rage Against The Machine
• KRS-One
• Talib Kweli
• DJ Danger Mouse
• Chuck D
• Mos Def

Thank God their standards for speaking truth to power and shedding light are higher than CNN.

Artists: Mos Def - Immortal Technique - Eminem

=============

[Mos Def - talking]
Man, you hear this bullshit they be talkin’
Every day, man
It’s like these motherfuckers is just like professional liars
YouknowwhatI’msayin? It’s wild
Listen

[Hook - Mos Def]
Bin Laden didn’t blow up the projects
It was you, nigga
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga

Bin Laden didn’t blow up the projects
It was you, nigga
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]

[Verse 1 - Immortal Technique]
I pledge no allegiance, nigga fuck the president’s speeches
I’m baptized by America and covered in leeches
The dirty water that bleaches your soul and your facial features
Drownin’ you in propaganda that they spit through the speakers
And if you speak about the evil that the government does
The Patriot Act’ll track you to the type of your blood
They try to frame you, and say you was tryna sell drugs
And throw a federal indictment on niggaz to show you love
This shit is run by fake Christians, fake politicians
Look at they mansions, then look at the conditions you live in
All they talk about is terrorism on television
They tell you to listen, but they don’t really tell you they mission
They funded Al-Qaeda, and now they blame the Muslim religion
Even though Bin Laden, was a CIA tactician
They gave him billions of dollars, and they funded his purpose
Fahrenheit 9/11, that’s just scratchin’ the surface

[Hook - Mos Def]
Bin Laden didn’t blow up the projects
It was you, nigga
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga

Bin Laden didn’t blow up the projects
It was you, nigga
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]

[Verse 2 - Immortal Technique]
They say the rebels in Iraq still fight for Saddam
But that’s bullshit, I’ll show you why it’s totally wrong
Cuz if another country invaded the hood tonight
It’d be warfare through Harlem, and Washington Heights
I wouldn’t be fightin’ for Bush or White America’s dream
I’d be fightin’ for my people’s survival and self-esteem
I wouldn’t fight for racist churches from the south, my nigga
I’d be fightin’ to keep the occupation out, my nigga
You ever clock someone who talk shit, or look at you wrong?
Imagine if they shot at you, and was rapin’ your moms
And of course Saddam Hussein had chemical weapons
We sold him that shit, after Ronald Reagan’s election
Mercenary contractors fightin’ a new era
Corporate military bankin’ off the war on terror
They controllin’ the ghetto, with the failed attack
Tryna distract the fact that they engineerin’ the crack
So I’m strapped like Lee Malvo holdin’ a sniper rifle
These bullets’ll touch your kids, and I don’t mean like Michael
Your body be sent to the morgue, stripped down and recycled
I fire on house niggaz that support you and like you
Cuz innocent people get murdered in the struggle daily
And poor people never get shit and struggle daily
This ain’t no alien conspiracy theory, this shit is real
Written on the dollar underneath the Masonic seal

(I don’t rap for dead presidents
I’d rather see the president dead
It’s never been said but I set precedents)–[Eminem]

[Hook - Mos Def]
Bin Laden didn’t blow up the projects
It was you, nigga
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga

Bin Laden didn’t blow up the projects
It was you, nigga
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]
Tell the truth, nigga
(Bush knocked down the towers)–[Jadakiss]

(Shady Records was 80 seconds away from the towers
Some cowards fucked with the wrong building, they meant to hit ours)– [Eminem]

Mos Def was apparently performing Katrina Klap without a permit outside the MTV Music Awards, so the cops came to shut his act down.

No authority-drilled cop would like the lyrics to that masterpiece, and a permit is a permit is a permit… but what’s up with the cop grabbing him on-stage?

Maybe they received a tip from a passerby that his mic was full of lip balm and soda and he was heading directly to JFK after the performance?

Assholes.

(via Southern SemAntics)

When I walked into the Jersey City office of Big Brothers/Big Sisters in the Spring of ‘04, I had no idea what to expect. I had tossed around the idea of becoming a Big Brother ever since my boy, Derek Haley, did it a few years after we left the ‘cuse, but I kept rationalizing my decision to not do it due to me having a hard enough time getting my own shit straight in my 20’s.

That was where I was dead wrong; for the longest time, I thought it all was about me.

Wendy, the director of the office, gave me a form with an inordinate amount of personal questions for a background check. After I completed the paperwork and she disclosed the rules of the Big Brother/Little Brother relationship, she then asked me the most obvious question, one which I had never even considered.

“What type of kid are you looking to match up with?”

Not knowing what to say, I quickly blurted back that I didn’t have any preferences, I mean, what kind of person would I be to shop for a specific type of little brother? Wendy expertly paused and explained that there were kids as young as 8 and as old as 16 looking for a Big Brother, but the older they got, the harder it was to place them. “As a matter of fact” I told her “the older the better.” I was looking for a brother, not a son. My answer seemed to please her, as she quickly dipped into her paperwork, searching for a case file. After a few minutes of licking fingers and opening dusty file cabinets in her ceiling fan cooled office, Wendy told me to come back in a few days. She thought she had found a potential match.

When I returned for my next appointment, I passed Branden and his mother, Felicia, sitting patiently in the hallway. Before I knew it, Branden — a 14 year old kid from across the tracks — and myself were in the midst of documenting our own shared rules of our relationship, the most important being that there was to be no lying. This was real. This was surreal. I had another little brother in my life.

Here’s the thing… and it may be the most used cliche’ of all, but it’s the most truthful statement I think I’ll ever make; Branden has taught me more about myself than any girlfriend or friend I’ve ever had. Sure, I’ve exposed him to a lot of new things; like Sushi dinners downtown or a Mos Def concert in Central Park, even a late-night showing of Sin City (sorry, Felicia). I tried to keep him focused when focus was needed and a kid the rest of the time. I know I’ve made a difference in his life, but I can’t even begin to express how much he’s changed mine. Not my perspective on life mind you, but my life.

When I was coming up in the ‘burbs of Montclair, NJ, I thought I was less off because the kids on my block had a new pair of Jams for each day of the week, while I had to cycle through mine every other day. After watching Branden watching his own back, both in school and out, spending his afternoons at his grandmother’s house because it’s not safe enough to go outside and hang out with his friends, well, shit becomes real. The kid has more street smarts in his first 16 years on this planet than I’ve garnered in my 35. As for how he changed my life, just take a look at the thin postings from 2004 on this blog and take a guess how career-focused I was; how consumed I had become about bettering me and mine.

I’m now volunteering my time, efforts and money with numerous causes as a direct result of our relationship.

Back in July, I was forced to make one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made in my life. I decided to leave Jersey City and move to Greensboro, NC. Felicia understood what was happening; the woman I loved was here and I needed to step, but Branden and I had just hit our stride, and he was in JC, still a few years away from the end point of the commitment I had made to him through Big Brothers. Yet, here I am, posting away from my village townhouse apartment, smack dab in the middle of the bible belt.

Words can’t express how tough that decision was.

But here’s the thing… Branden and I don’t relate to one another through the lens of the Big Brother program, we haven’t since the first time we hung out. We’ve shared enough special moments together that we consider ourselves brothers, for real.

A few weeks ago, Big B promised me that for my birthday, he was going to drop lyrics on his blog, Prestylin’, and dedicate his flow to me. Tonight, during my nightly ritual of Bloglines info-digestion, there it was, the Prestylin’ feed was black and bold, reaching out for my eyes to behold.

Check it.

What can I say? I miss ya’, kid. Keep it real up there, mind your mom and keep on doing your thing in school. I’ll be back up there in the New Year, kicking your butt in Madden quicker than you can say “That’s dope.” (haha)

To my friends and fellow web travelers, if you have a moment, stop on by and show Big B some love. Not only is he keeping it real, but he’s keeping it right.

Props to Hashim for grabbing this before Atlantic took it down. And if you’re getting ready to dis Juvenile for trying to come correct with a conscious release, pause before going there. I mean, Katrina Klap was dropped on his beat, as New Orleans was his spot.

The master of framing the moment within a gut-felt emotion is back, providing clarity beyond the crystal clear. Take a listen to Chuck’s response to the natural and federal disaster of Katrina, the Children of Eris remix, “Hell No We Ain’t All Right”

Chuck D’s rhymes flow so natural and powerful they take form within your psyche while you latch onto his beat. That’s because Chuck doesn’t twist to the beat of a loop; Chuck’s direct, unflinching words twist a beat of their own.

Can’t you feel him in this latest drop?

I follow his words, like “the new world is upside down and out of order” as a flip from the past, as back then he was taken aghast, as the polar opposites were set-up, the Axis of Evil corrupt…

Man…

I often wonder if the 17 to 23 year-old crowd nowadays gets the same dose of reality in the Hip hop nation.

Sure, the crew of Common, Talib Kweli, Mos Def and The Roots bring consciousness to each of their narratives on multiple levels. Underground hip-hop, like Head-Roc, sticks to the grimy reality, and J-Live lives and keeps it real as a teacher in Brooklyn, but where is the channeled anger of this generation?

Maybe he/she/they are out there and the gray in my chin is talking all of this junk — if so, feel free to let me know. To the extent that Chuck D and Public Enemy pumped out perspective and knowledge in the late 80’s to the mid-90’s (along with KRS-One and Brand Nubian), I just don’t hear the same form of consistent passion in these modern day cats.

Yes, Mos Def was crazy conscious with his tabulations in Mathematics, and has kept ‘em coming leading right up to the in-the-moment response and drop of Katrina Klap. Artists such as Kanye West have proven to have a conscious, yet even Kanye still goes back and forth with club songs chock full of faux diamond dissing, gold-digging lyrics.

Chuck D earned the lead Public Enemy #1 tag with his straight up, hardcore responses to social issues of the time; I’m talking about consistent responses to real-time events, like:

• dropping “By the Time I Get To Arizona” when Arizona refused to honor Martin Luther King’s birthday
• or when Chuck tried to shut down the malt-liquor industry in “1 Million Bottlebags” for targeting young black males with their poison
• even in their twilight, in 2002 Public Enemy dropped “Son of a Bush” at a time when political commentary in hip-hop was ripe for the picking, but rare due to the climate of blind patriotism. Only Eminem made any Bush accountability waves, but he waited until a safer year of 2004 to drop his Mosh video, pre and post 2004 elections.

Enough.

Like that dude on Enter the 36 Chambers said, “Ah yeah, again and again!”

Bring the noise, Chuck.

UPDATE: Here’s the original Public Enemy release of “Hell No We Ain’t Alright“

(originally uploaded by dreadfuldan)

Mother nature dropped Katrina.
The federal government dropped the ball.
Kanye West dropped the illest freestyle in the midst of the harshest climate.

And Mos Def just dropped Katrina Klap, a jam that will undoubtedly mark this moment in the annals of hip-hop and social activism.

1, 2, 3, 4 bust it!
This is for the streets
The streets everywhere
The streets affected by the storm called… America, huh.
I’m doing this for y’all
As for me, the creator

Get busy, y’all!

God save these streets, one dollar per every human being
Feel that Katrina Klap!
See that Katrina Klap!
Listen, homie
It’s dollar day in New Orleans
It’s for the water everywhere and people dead in the streets
And Mr. President, he about that cash
He got a policy for handling the niggers and trash
And if you poor, you black
I laugh a laugh, they won’t give when you ask,
You better off on crack
Dead or in jail or with a gun in Iraq
And it’s as simple as that
No opinion, my man
It’s mathematical fact
Listen
A million poor since 2004
And they got illions and killions to waste on the war
And make you question what the taxes is for
Or the cost to reinforce the broke levee wall
Tell the boss he shouldn’t be the boss anymore

God save these streets, one dollar per every human being
Feel that Katrina Klap!
See that Katrina Klap!
God save these streets, quit being cheap, nigger, freedom ain’t free!
Feel that Katrina Klap!
See that Katrina Klap!
Lord have mercy!
Lord, God, God, save our soul, a God save our soul, a God, a God save our soul
Lord, God, God, save our soul, a God save our soul, soul, soul… soul survival!

It’s dollar day in New Orleans
It’s for the water everywhere and babies dead in the streets
It’s enough to make ya’ holla out
Like, where the fuck is Sir Bono and his famous friends now?
Don’t get it twisted man
I dig U2
But if you ain’t about the ghetto
Then fuck you too
Who care about rock n’ roll when babies can’t eat food
Listen, homie man, the shit ain’t cool
It’s like, dollar day, for New Orleans
It’s for the water everywhere, homies dead in the streets
And Mr. President’s a natural ass
He out treatin’ niggas worse then they treat the trash

God save these streets, one dollar per every human being
Feel that Katrina Klap!
See that Katrina Klap!
God save these streets, quit being cheap, nigger, freedom ain’t free!
Feel that Katrina Klap!
See that Katrina Klap!
Soul survivor!
Lord, God, God, save our soul, a God save our soul, a God, a God save our soul
Lord, God, God, save our soul, a God save our soul, a God, a God save our…

God did not intend for the wicked to rule the world
Said God did not intend for the wicked to rule the world
God did not intend for the wicked to rule the world
And even when they do
It’s a matter of truth
Before their wicked ruling is through

God save these streets
A dollar day for New Orleans
God save these streets
Quit being cheap, homie, freedom ain’t free!
God save these streets
One dollar per every human being!
Feel that Katrina Klap!
See that Katrina Klap!
God save these streets
Quit being cheap, nigger, freedom ain’t free!
Feel that Katrina Klap!
Ghetto Katrina Klap!
Soul survivor
Lord, God, God, save our soul, a God save, God save our soul
Feel that Katrina Klap!
Let’s make them dollars stack!
And rebuild these streets
God save these streets
God save these streets
God save the soul!
Feel that Katrina Klap!
See that Katrina Klap!
Soul survivor

Don’t talk about it, be about it.
Peace.

Push it along. You’ve got to push it along…