The Format

The Format
[Verse 1: Deacon The Villain]
If we gonna start from scratch, you start with wax
If there's no dish, then there's no rap
Records, albums, vinyl, the facts
Give us a stack of records and we'll give you 12 tracks
The agreement turned cement
40 years ago
Hip Hop, the vinyl frontier
The embryo
Two turntables a mic and a cold stereo, DJ, one MC, the imperial
Many many put their muse to it
Sent bop, sent rock, sent blues through it
From classical to jazz we can who’s who it
Or blow the dust off and groove to it
Lets ride
B-side on direct drive
You know that crackle give the best high
Give me a needle, a cartridge, a partridge, some tree, 45s and a 33, let it be

[Verse 2: Masta Ace]
A new format hit the scene like way back
It was smaller and more convenient than 8-track
You could pop it in your car on a long drive
Play the album or fast-forward to song five
If you passed the song you had to rewind it back
It was kind of frustrating trying to find a track
Memorex, Ampex down to TDK
Where the Biz was on the radio with BDK
When they was on the air, I was on the pause-button
I had the best taste but I ain't trying to cause nothing
Cause everybody thought their paws was the raws
Cats used to battle, this shit used to cause wars
We would trade tapes, that was the best it could be
Busy Bee had the fever for Treacherous Three
Having the best tapes, was like a status symbol
The yellow tape, purple tape to the baddest demo
Battles travel from the Bronx to Baltimore
They would stand by the speaker to record them all
Them same tapes that was labeled with a thick marker
Made the neighbourhood rappers want to spit sharper
If my tape pop trust, I was ready man
A razor blade, scotch tape and a steady hand
I call it surgery
My cassette went under the knife and brought back to life
Man that's word to me

[Hook: Deacon The Villain]
If you want it, I got it
That which makes you move
"It's... the format baby"

If you want it, I got it
That which makes you cool
"It's... the format baby"

[Verse 3: Kno]
My relationship with bass and kicks had come full circle
Plastic and cheap but I clapped to the beat
Stab the repeat button and keep running
And that's something you can't get from tape dubbing
Skip the skips with a flick of the wrist
More time to check what's sick on the list
The fickle dismissed this little digital disk
But try and play vinyl in the whip, it'll skip
And it's '96, I'm trying to get laid now
Chose the format with binary laid down
1s and 0s, and 0s and 1s, flood the BOSE with flows and drums
Blunts get blown in my homie's truck
We sitting on chrome, little bone thugs
We got wheels, we ain't trying to walk man
CD's nuts, there's dust on my walkman

[Verse 4: Mr. S.O.S]
Follow me entering this digital odyssey
Holy matrimony but harder to see
Everywhere but non-existant, what a conundrum
Upgraded but they say we forgot where we come from
The past feels even further with every second
Off the record, the coming and going of Kbps
In the day of the instant message
The message is misdirected and the receiver seems to be disconnected
But don't complain, love game
Even after the flood came and left our neighbors over-saturated
With no computer love, just computer bugs
Hate the virus and not the hacker, that's what a loser does
Meanwhile, the kids are playing shoot em' ups
Trying to be the 2.0 version of Super Thug
Press reset, any era you wish to visit is next
Hold on as we eject