Текст песни Telegram

I'm falling up flights of stairs
Scraping myself from the sidewalk
Jumping from rivers to bridges
Drowning in pure air

Hip-hop is lying on the side of the road
Half dead to itself
Blood scrawled over its mangled flesh, like jazz
Stuffed into an oversized record bag
Tuba lips swollen beyond recognition
Diamond-studded teeth strewn like rice at Karma's wedding
The ring bearer bore bad news
Minister of Information wrote the wrong proclamation
And now everyone's singing the wrong song
Dissonant chords find necks like nooses
That nigga kicked the chair from under my feet
Harlem shakin from a rope, but still on beat
"Damn, that loop is tight."
That nigga found a way to sample the way the truth the light
Can't wait to play myself at the party tonight
Niggas are gonna die
Cop car swerves to the side of the road
Hip-hop takes its last breath
The cop scrawls vernacular manslaughter on a yellow pad
Then balls the paper into his hand
Deciding he'd rather freestyle
"You have the right to remain silent."
"You have the right to remain silent."
And maybe you should have
Maybe you should have
Before your bullshit manifested

These thugs can't fuck with me
They too thugged out
Niggas think I'm bugged out
'Cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out
This ain't hip hop no more, son
It's bigger than that
This ain't ghetto no more
Black? It's bigger than black
So where my aliens at?
Girl, we all illegal
This system ain't for us
It's for rich people
And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money
But you can't buy shit to not get hungry

Telegram to Hip-Hop:Saul Williams - Telegram - http://ru.motolyrics.com/saul-williams/telegram-lyrics.html
Dear Hip Hop. Stop.
This shit has gone too far. Stop.
Please see that turntables and mixer are returned to Kool Herc. Stop.
The ghettos are dancing off beat. Stop.
The master of ceremonies have forgotten
that they were once slaves and have neglected
the occasion of this ceremony. Stop.
Perhaps we should not have encouraged them
to use cordless microphones, for they have
walked too far from the source and
are emitting a lesser frequency. Stop.
Please inform all interested parties that
cash nor murder have been included to list of elements. Stop.
We are discontinuing our line
of braggadocio, in light of the current trend in "realness". Stop.
As an alternative, we will be
confiscating weed supplies and
replacing them with magic mushrooms, in hopes
of helping niggas see beyond their reality. Stop.
Give my regards to Brooklyn.

These thugs can't fuck with me
They too thugged out
Niggas think I'm bugged out
'Cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out
This ain't hip hop no more, son
It's bigger than that
This ain't ghetto no more
Black? It's bigger than black
So where my aliens at?
Girl, we all illegal
This system ain't for us
It's for rich people
And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money
But you can't buy shit to not get hungry

These cats can't fuck with me
I purr purple
Sold, increased, toe shell like a turtle
I walk the streets like the lie that I'm telling
One listener gripses me and starts yellin
I see through speakers, I speak what's seen
I eat and shed, I sleep and dream
I walk the streets of London like, "Know what I mean?"
And chillin at Waggamama
Eatin crib soy beans

It's like that