[L.I.F.E. Long]
JS-1, Technique, LIFELong, yo
I only roll with true master turn turntablists,
Who switch up records making wax and needles kiss.
Not these amateurs only relying on playlists.
My man JS-1 will make vinyls say ouch.
From the cuts and scratch even Technique can vouch.
While ya'll DJs just learning to speak with hands,
Most dick-jockeys ain't really moving no jams,
Just sitting back getting under the table payola.
Weak mixtapes with emcees writing drafts with crayola.
My peeps be (?) spinning great exclusives.
Juggling wax, got ears vibing off the new shit,
While wanna-be DJs got me asleep during their mix.
I feel like slicing that ax and detaching fingertips.
Now all you gotta do is take note,
And watch real turntable technicians show ya'll the ropes.
Respect due to DJs who represent everyday, all-day, let this shit here play.
[Chorus]
Here's to DJs who play that real hip-hop,
not for popularity reasons, but for the love of the art.
Turntablist, Audio Technician, JS only the steel.
Can break a beat, cut, scratch, and stand form.
*DJ scratching*
I don't need MTV, I can smash your click like 1-2-3.
[Immortal Technique]
Yo,
I conduct Guerrilla Warfare throughout the PJ’s
On the Government controlled by whack DJs
Playin’ watered down commercial, coz of Payola
Takin’ orders from the label on the two way Motorola
Spit Solar Rays on DJs who think they raw
Right before I break your fingers off in a car door
Then imma give your girl a C-Section with a chain saw
And graffiti my name with the blood stains on the floor
Hardcore on a fake Turntabler’s brother
You whack niggas blend like yellow and purple colours
Muthafucka, nobody wanna hire a decoy
You couldn’t spin in a club as a fuckin’ B-Boy
Coz juvenile cats don’t get the big picture
Gimme that vest-axe and go back to your fisher-price mixer
Im about to hit ya like the Pentagon after I take off
Yo JS1 cut this muthafucka’s face off...
*scratching*
[Chorus]
