[male
vocals] (
Sound
of
needle
dropping
on
vinyl,
rhythmic
crackle)
Yeah,
turn
the
gain
up
on
the
crates
It’
s
the
real,
D’
Real
in
the
house
Where
the
foundation
meets
the
elevation
Let
the
scratch
tell
the
story
Check
it,
yeah
I
construct
sentences
like
a
mason
building
walls
of
stone
My
flow
is
the
marrow,
the
hip-hop
culture
is
my
bone
I’
m
a
linguist
in
the
booth,
decoding
the
static
of
the
street
Turning
abstract
thoughts
into
a
pattern
for
the
beat
My
rhymes
are
architectural,
blueprints
laid
in
the
ink
I
make
the
critics
pause
and
give
the
masters
time
to
think
I’
m
the
archivist
of
boom-bap,
the
guardian
of
the
loop
While
others
jump
through
hoops,
I’
m
the
soul
inside
the
soup
I
juggle
metaphors
like
a
DJ
spinning
wax
on
a
deck
Every
syllable
a
heavy
anchor,
never
leaving
it
in
check
I’
m
D’
Real,
call
it
essence,
call
it
truth
in
the
track
Taking
you
back
to
the
basement,
never
looking
at
the
back.
It’
s
the
rhythm
of
the
city,
the
pulse
of
the
underground
Where
the
wordplay
travels,
where
the
truest
heads
are
found
D’
Real
on
the
mic,
yeah,
the
truth
is
in
the
rhyme
Crafting
gold
from
the
silence,
bending
the
hands
of
time
Yeah,
we
keep
it
moving,
keeping
the
spirit
core
Hip-hop
is
the
life,
what
we
coming
here
for.
I’
m
dissecting
the
syntax,
the
rhythm
is
a
heartbeat
steady
Cooking
up
the
flavor
like
a
chef,
man,
the
kitchen
is
ready
I
weave
narrative
tapestry,
metaphors
woven
tight
Shining
like
a
beacon
in
the
middle
of
the
dead
of
night
My
delivery
is
clinical,
precise
like
a
surgeon’
s
blade
Cutting
through
the
fluff,
watch
the
imposters
start
to
fade
I’
m
a
scholar
of
the
boom,
studying
the
patterns
of
dust
In
a
world
of
plastic
sound,
my
iron
never
forms
the
rust
D’
Real,
that’
s
the
moniker,
the
reality
of
the
craft
I’
m
the
one
laughing
last
when
the
charts
start
to
draft
I
keep
the
integrity,
the
soul
of
the
boom-bap
sound
Feet
planted
firmly
on
this
hallowed
hip-hop
ground.
It’
s
the
rhythm
of
the
city,
the
pulse
of
the
underground
Where
the
wordplay
travels,
where
the
truest
heads
are
found
D’
Real
on
the
mic,
yeah,
the
truth
is
in
the
rhyme
Crafting
gold
from
the
silence,
bending
the
hands
of
time
Yeah,
we
keep
it
moving,
keeping
the
spirit
core
Hip-hop
is
the
life,
what
we
coming
here
for. (
DJ
scratching
sounds,
beat
fades
to
just
the
kick
and
snare)
It’
s
about
the
feeling,
not
just
the
fashion
It’
s
about
the
patience,
not
just
the
passion
D’
Real,
the
name,
the
game,
the
frame
None
of
these
others
ever
really
stay
the
same
But
the
boom-bap,
it
stays,
it
remains
Flowing
through
the
veins
like
the
truth
in
the
rains.
I’
m
the
keeper
of
the
flame,
the
torchbearer
of
the
art
Writing
every
lyric
straight
from
the
center
of
the
heart
No
shortcuts
taken,
just
the
essence
on
the
plate
I’
m
a
master
of
the
rhythm,
dancing
with
the
hand
of
fate
See,
the
music
is
a
mirror,
reflections
of
the
soul
Keeping
the
culture
whole,
keeping
the
steady
control
D’
Real,
that’
s
the
handle,
the
truth
behind
the
bars
Guiding
all
the
listeners
to
catch
a
glimpse
of
the
stars
So
when
the
needle
skips
and
the
record
starts
to
spin
That’
s
when
the
real
journey
is
waiting
to
begin.
It’
s
the
rhythm
of
the
city,
the
pulse
of
the
underground
Where
the
wordplay
travels,
where
the
truest
heads
are
found
D’
Real
on
the
mic,
yeah,
the
truth
is
in
the
rhyme
Crafting
gold
from
the
silence,
bending
the
hands
of
time
Yeah,
we
keep
it
moving,
keeping
the
spirit
core
Hip-hop
is
the
life,
what
we
coming
here
for.
Yeah,
D’
Real
Just
keep
the
rhythm
pure
Authentic
to
the
core
Nothing
more,
nothing
less (
Vinyl
crackle
fades
out)
Respect
the
craft.