Militant Vinylist

History made guys…Thanks!

(Image Credit: Matthew Alexander Patton)

Got the mighty wheels of steel back in action after a long hiatus in storage across the water while I sorted my shit out. Been testing them out on the regular by TURNING THEM UP TO 11…

I hate CD’s, CD-records are fake,
where the fuck the DJ’s gonna catch the break?
only vinyl can make my rear shake,
yo Embee, scratch the record for old times sake.

I was shopping my demo at this record-company,
they thought it sounded cool and said let’s make a CD,
I said, wait a minute, you mean LP,
he said, no we stopped making those in ’93,
I said, what, but what about the D,
before I got to say the J I got kicked out on the street,
stood to my feet, and thought this is a conspiracy,
to shut down real hip hop, I gots to call Embee,
he wasn’t home so I gave him a beep,
but his pager was blown so I thought I’m on my own
I gotta fix one alone, I thought when I got home,
grabbed my megaphone and went out, agitating,
but nobody reacted so I went home contemplating,
forever tryin’ to solve this impossible equation,
If DJ+LP+MIC=MC, then where the f- you fitting CD? Nowhere.
So I dressed up in army-gear, I put on shades and I dyed my hair,
I got my razor-blade teeth and strangling shoe-laces,
Gas-mask and explosive suitcases,
ready to go to war on the record-store,
sellin CD’s; I’mma smash the door,
light up the Molotov cocktail – boom!
“You had compact-disks on sale”, is what I’mma say,
if the cops come to take me away.
but no way, I leave the suite without a trace,
change my garment like a dreadlock Clark Kent,
without a phone-booth, cause I ain’t payed the rent,
next days newspapers headlines will read:
“The Militant Vinyl-terrorist Newbie”
and me on a picture dressed up in camouflage,
Ice-hockey-mask covered beard and moustache,
I slash the kind of person with a hockey stick,
told them to stop to selling the compact-disk.

‘Cause I hate CD’s, CD-records are fake,
where the fuck the DJ’s gonna catch the break?
only vinyl can make my rear shake,
yo Embee, scratch the record for old times sake.

The Hip Hop DJ is an endangered species,
Becoming extinct because of the CD,
And without the DJ, there would never had been hip hop,
But now on every block I see a CD-shop,
So how ya think Hip Hop had a chance to begin,
If the people in New York had no records to spin?
Back and forth, forth and back like flash,
That’s why I have to do these nightly attacks,
To preserve the wax and exterminate the compact-disk,
‘Cause this has become a hazardous health-risk,
So peace to DJ’s Spinnage and DJ Bloke from Sweden,
And all DJ’s all around the globe,
From the west the Skratch Piklz and DJ QBert
scratching the records until the needle jerk,
Kool Herc, Red Alert, and Grandmaster Flash,
DJ Evil Dee, Clark Kent and DJ Scratch
All from the East rocking jams with their hands,
Can’t forget about Krush and Honda from Japan,
And Africa Bambaataa down since it started,
The X-men, rocking tapes and block-parties,
some of the hardest, Premier and Kid Capri,
Mark the 45 King, Pete Rock and Cool B,
Chuck Chill Out, and Sweden’s own DJ Sleepy,
but Number 1 for me is DJ Embee.

-‘Cause he hates CD’s, CD-records are fake,
where the fuck the DJ’s gonna catch the break?
Only vinyl can make my rear shake,
yo Embee, scratch the record for old times sake.