dear dilla
Dilla dawg, I had a dream about you fam
Its 2005, we in the same hospital room
You on one side, I'm on the other
I'm stressed out, but what gave motivation was you pullin' out that MP
And bangin' out some bangers as usual
Nothin' ever phased you fam, and for that, I miss you
D-Town throw it up
NYC throw it up
The whole world throw it up
BK
Hold tight, this ain't the last time I see you
Due time, that's my word, I'mma see you
Frontin' ass rappers now here stealin' intros
Posin' like they hard when we know they all see through
I'mma tell you, Dilla, why they lackin' skills now
No stage presence, cadence, style
They livin' off of hooks, skinny jean crooks
Pre-K lyrics, why would I need a book?
I reminisce, reminisce, when Mobb dropped shook
Shan was down by law, such a good look
Nas' God's Son, his return was Stillmatic
Distortion to Static, you and Slum Fantastic
Thought I'd chop you out, son, see how you're doin'
Come back to earth, homie, hip hop is in ruins
I'm a third of the Tribe but I'mma speak for the click
What up though, we miss you, kid
Motor City say
Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay
Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay
Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay
Jay Dee, flip another beat for me, Jay
Yo, yo, beatwise, you still that cat which most shit be measured
I'm that MC known to share his displeasure
With the route the game was taking, how mundane things have gotten
You know music on a whole, never mind just hip-hoppin'
I'm in the club, 3 hours and change
DJ spinnin Top 40, we be hearin' all day
Some MCs are catalog, and yeah, they stay paid
But why pay over one buck, when they lip syncin' on stage?
King of pop, Barry White, rollin' over in they grave
Jones Girls, Emotions singin' back in our day
Dilla dude still crackin', they wish to be like you
Producer extraordinaires, knowing their beats be recycled
But on your worst day they couldn't mess with you
Cats makin' Ts in remembrance of you
Least they could do is give your fam a dime or two
This man gave his heart, this what the fuck y'all do?
But yo, don't stress my you, word bond we got you
Tell Baatin I said what's up, word, he right next to you?
So NYC to the D with heavy hearts we miss you
Word, God wish you were here, so until we meet again just...
Hook
Ma dukes
V. Rich on the keys
My main man DJ Rasta Root on the beat, on the cuts
Smokin Needles,  kids, salute
ATCQ forever