Biggie’s flow, Tupac’s fire
In the shadows of the city, where the beats collide,
90’s underground, raw and bona fide,
Biggie’s flow, Tupac’s fire, blasting through my mind,
Graffiti on the walls, stories left behind.
Gritty streets, heavy bass, drums hit like a punch,
Respect the roots, the essence, the lyrical crunch,
Pure and independent, underrated and true,
This is dope times ten, nothing else will do.
From West Coast G-Funk to East Coast grind,
Every lyric a gem, every rhyme defined,
Chopped samples, stories woven tight,
Hip-hop’s heartbeat, alive in the night.
The Last Poets, Black Panthers, voices of the past,
Echo in the rhythm, built to last,
Raw, gritty, nostalgic, a head-nodding trance,
In the underground’s embrace, we dance.
Heavy gratitude for the real, the raw,
Mad beats, heavy truths, the soul’s in awe,
This is the sound of the streets, unfiltered and bold,
90’s underground, forever gold.
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