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Brief Description

This song is by Atmosphere and appears on the album Overcast! (1997).

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"Have you heard it? Sing along with it.
If you didn't hear it, you're gonna hear it right now.")

Bam, the door way opened for me
I saw ways and told the story
Raw day dreams of holding glory
Junior high, hall way kings
Locker taggin' MCs
Beat boxin', breakin' Zulu Nation wanna-bes

It didn't take long to see who'd stay strong
High school came upon
Some B-Boys put their gang bangs on
But some kept on doing
Step on to ruin
Others that were pursuing the same shit we thought we ruled in

But what a surprise
The passion for being the best
Puts the quest for allies to rest
Dead in the Midwest where heads
Is just a handful
In a land of gangstas
Players, replacements, pricks, banjos

We scramble
To break MCs that may appreciate it
Guided by the envy, insecurity and the hatred
Separated by the "gimmie props" technique
And a desire to be the tops this week
I gotta floss the speak

'Cause talk is cheap
Even the broke kids can afford it
That's why I stand close, and if you're dope then I'm supportive
But if not
We'll keep the mic warm for the next one
Respect the artform
And make your wishes on the stars born

Within the movement
Fact checking, tryin' to completely avoid all channels of back-stepping
From the lines of painted the concrete
that reside on Lakestreet
To the way we close our eyes to sleep

And drift through Deep Space 9 type shit
To find this
I've been around for as long as sound
I've been to that not so fresh phase
And to the not quite that serious state but I've evolved
Metamorphed a manifest state

I used to be young, dumb and full of vision
Like it was religious rituals
I made initial decisions
I wanted to be a rapper world renowned
From Minneap to the Bronx
Capture girls and crowns
Snap, crackle and stomp

That's what I found
The abyss that sits in-between the one that holds the mic
And those that don't even listen
Formed some crews
Rocked talent shows at schools
Saturdays on the 18 make my way down to the record pool

I met a grip of people that was bullshit (bullshit)
Was down with a lot of people that was bullshit
But I pull shit from the asshole of an angel
Before I let him hassle and strangle the love triangle
Between me, the mic and the turntable

Went to studios
We want to make demos
We want to do shows and rock our own instrumentals
Do our own production
Fuckin' around with this kid Kazir
Nitwit engineer
Barely knew his own equipment, Atmosphere

The prefix was Urban
Wrecked shows
Made friends, made foes
Overall we made flows
And right now as I sit here, write now, writing this
I'm buggin' off of the people in my life that made me like this

Within the movement, fact checkin'
Tryin' to completely avoid all channels of back-steppin'
From the lines of painted concrete
that reside on Franklin Ave
To the dead bird on the elevator

To that short in your cross fader
I never got lost later
For efforts to pester
Just throw your hands up in the air like a leper
I've been to that not so fresh phase
And to the not quite that serious state
Metamorph a manifest state

Well sometimes it rings and I don't answer it
That's it, no asterisks
No thirst to find the circumstances
It was planted in me deep
It was nurtured and it grew

Gave it sleep and nutrition
It was efficient let it through
There are a few that have developed to where I let them in my spectrum
For the rest of em
I give them just enough to cause infection

Not trippin' on attention
But if you up it, it's welcome
Open arms, potent charms
I know the words and I can spell them

Seldom is it when one inquisits
Do they leave with this interest
In fact most begin crave the visits
Bringin' me to the table
That's it, no more, no less
The love, the life, the stress
Slug, the mic, the mess

Yes, I've been tested and I've tested some
I'm not sayin' I'm the best
Believe I'm not like the rest of em
Just sayin' I'm better than you
That's my mind state
My rhymes take me into
When I check one two

I guess some do get pissed
But intentions were to inspire
Build the empire before I get tired
The ones that tear me down don't know it
But they're the same ones that built me
Now quiet, lean your head and say, "Yes, you can feel me."

"Asking himself, even before the curtain goes up, what am I?
I am now eighty years old, and more, and I am determined to find precisely what I am, what I amount to. They tell me I am everything, they flatter me everyday of my life. I am now going to subject myself to a rigorous test in order to find out really what I am. I don't care about kingdom, I don't care about rule anymore. It is of no importance to me, as such, but I must find out what I am before I die."


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