Deacon:

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
Gimme a needle, a cartridge, a partridge , some tree
45s and a 33
Let it be

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 a song you had to rewind it back
It was kind of frustrating trying to find a track
Memorex, ampex, down to TDK
Whether Biz was on the radio or BDK
When they was on the air, I was on the pause button
I had the best tapes but I ain’t trying to cause nothing
Cause everybody thought their pause was the raws
Cats used to battle
The 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 neighborhood rappers want to spit sharper
If my tape pop trust I was ready man
A razor blade, scotch tape and a steady hand
I called it surgery, my cassette went under the knife
And was brought back to life, man that’s word it to me

Kno:

My relationship with bass and kicks haAnnotated come full circle
Plastic and cheap but I clapped to the beat
Stab the repeat button and keep running
And that's somthing 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

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 that we forgot where we come from

The past feels even further with every second

Off the record, the coming and going of Kbps's
In the day of the instant message

The message is misdirected and the receiver seems to be disconnected

But don't complain, love gain

Even after the flood came in 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