Opening Monologue: Uhhh! This is how it’s gonna go down! 1st Verse: Test testing 1-2 on the come through. Crack a cheesy ass rapper cause he’s fondue. My glare, burns your retina like the sun do. Taste these lyrical edibles that I brung you. If there’s a void to be filled number five will fill it. If it’s an open mic you bet I get live with it. Won’t waste my energy on trying to oblige a critic, just focus on the dopest way to design a lyric. I take a chunk of words, throw ‘em on a pallet. Chisel down each slab ‘til it forms a ballad. And what you get is a pristine within a raw 16, the work with the beauty of chapel Sistine. Broadcasting live from a place that’s infamously, known for the bullshit the numbers are infinite. Asbestos suit to clean out the garbage, let’s be clear, San Brown’s bringin’ that bomb shit. Chorus: That’s Who? San Brown you know I’m that dude. That’s True! I spit jewels that make ya go “ooooh!” That Crew? Black Drop we steady makin’ moves, and there’s more where that come from so wey you wan do?!? That’s Who? San Brown you know I’m that dude. That’s True! I spit jewels that make ya go “ooooh!” That Crew? Black Drop is steady makin’ moves, and we’re givin’ y’all the dopeness and not a thang to prove! Verse 2: You wanna know the biggest proponent that breeds division? Let’s take a close look at politics and religion. Many wars fought, in the name of each. And when you start a conversation dissension will creep. Pullin’ the wool over the eyes of the sheep, Now you got the masses goin’g at one another to eat. Peep! The small percent top heavy with resource. And run for cover at the sight of a social discourse. That’s why we love the art, rhythm and poetry. Somethin’ for the people worldwide or locally, A voice for the masses like Malcolm or Stokely, I still see the burn from the Reagan Era and coca leaves. Who would’ve thought guns, crack sold bought, was a political move and a generation was lost, now Big Pharma’s pushin’ vaccines that harm us. Let’s be clear, San Brown’ll drop the bomb shit. Chorus (I’mma bring it home now!) Verse 3: I clap stones in thunderstorms and bring light. And rap poems on microphones and breed life. Infectious drop heavy like class lectures, each verse a movie with parental discretion. I’ll have a drink with Father Time dine with Mother Nature. Party with the Sun to be in tune with his behavior, under moon light unite words and phrases, stars come out, shinin’ bright for this occasion. Extravagant, magnificent, San’ll get, to movin’ crowds quicker than A-K’s with banana clips, as your reign falls I’m two steppin’ on rain drops, me and mine are stealin’ the night, go ‘head and call the cops. You wanna tell me to the victor goes the spoils, well ya ain’t said shit slick to a can of oil homie. I write these scrolls to bring light outta darkness, let’s be clear, San Brown, I am the bomb shit! Chorus Closing Monologue: Ladies and Gentlemen! You have now experienced, the unmistakable, the unshakable, the unshadeable, San Brown, of the mighty squad Black Drop! (Ha-Ha!)

1st Verse: Dream this a King speech, Kareem Abdul Jabbar reach, born sinner. Cesarean birth, etherean light bender. The meek shall inherit the earth I carried it first, that God of brimstone you kneel and pray to. I was there, when he was heir to the throne. Got his big bang on, theories change. I’m able to get my Caine own. Kill a track in a hoodie like Trayvon, go beyond. Normal brain capacity I’m outta my mind, but it's, designed like Einstein, I went back to the future and left mine behind. I'm arsenic with rhyme, Jimi Hendrix, with a guitar pick, purple hazin’. Pandemonium from the podium when the pendulum swings. I betta not hear a pen drop. Chorus: I watch the day light, fade into night. West Coast nigga all my life. But I let my mind travel, light years away, Just another day on the Eastside (right!) Monologue 1: What they know about that Watts Super Bowl, man? Locke and Jordan, we needed an escort to get to that muthafucka man! (Ha-Ha right!) 2nd Verse: Here to the dethrone the big dogs, fallin’ of Rome. Snatch your empire, twist like a gymnast. Lyrical composer, street novelist. Spit fire like Godzilla, feel the will of, God when I spit with the zeal of a prophet, Prodigal son returns. I'm hungry, not for a meal. Give me the recipe as long as the canopy, of rap is covered, I love the energy. Deliver God the best the world can have the rest of me, it's etched in deep, I'm the vessel. My rap drives the vehicle, black lives matter. Plant life and animals, pain is unavoidable. Keep it minimal, simply enjoy the view, watch my attitude don't move like these haters do, taught by the realest dudes play by your own rules. Chorus Monologue 2: They don’t know nothin’ about dem Will Rogers Park free lunches. Fuck that Ted Watkins shit, man! They don’t know nothin’ about the Black tamale man on Avalon! (Word!) 3rd Verse: I'm own that God shit you got to kill me to stop it, or jump out the cockpit. I'm committed to the flight not that plane old rap. Rocket out of sight, bent off that vodka, I'm a beast like Chewbacca. But I'm broke, like my Locke high locker, they hit my man! Cliff with a chopper, but you can’t kill God on the Eastside block, we get up and walk. Surrounded by wise men like Jesus in a manger. Fuck what they talk about watch their behavior, old Fantasia’s American Idols. Prod ‘em in line with, Hillary Rodham. If not give ‘em sodomy, they love to fuck. And be entertained hear the pain in my language, tryin’ to wake niggas up. Can't duck the truth when it’s hundred proof runnin’ through your molecules. Chorus Monologue 3: What’s up Big Cliff? Shit, I feel you baby! They can’t kill God, baby! We get up and walk! What’s up Payback? Shit, we grew up on dem cul de sacs in Watts, shit! Ain’t nowhere else to go but up from there, right? Shit! We’re doin’ good baby! We ain’t in the grave or in dem jails. What’s up Brotha Blink? O Tha Reel One! San Brown! Skin Deep, where you at? Shit, I feel the spirit of Chris Small in this muthafucka, man! I know you’re watchin’! Black Drop! Eastside! Shit, we’re here! Let’s get this shit!

Verse 1: Uggh! Check the style it’s Watts. From 99th to Gompers to Locke. Check the profile, Who is he? ruff rugged or intellectual, how bout both? Go two ways like bi-sexuals. But all hetero he, steps into the joint. Heads turn, girls swoon, cool you get the point. So don't be deceived by degrees. Came of age as Payback started as Bobby Lee, the message is unchanged. He went to the Mecca, to elevate self and run thangs, make the world say his name like Ernie Terrell and Ali, now he’s chasin the power like Tracy Marrow and Darlene. He's come a long way since Watts. Now he parlays and partays in bougie spots, in case you forgot, check the tat etched on his bicep, since '85 hat cocked slight left. Chorus 1: Who Is He? The Robust One from wayback, it’s ya boy Payback, jeeeah! Who Is He? Born and bred in Watts against all odds existence flawed a paradox, uuh! Who Is He? He’s gone from crack rocks to black socks, now he keeps the tracks hot, jeeeah! Who Is He? 6’4, 250, the spirit of the hood lives in me, uggh! Verse 2: No longer chase dem thangs they chase me. I had to curb the urge it's phase three, See I like my woman with class not whores or milfs. You know that kind that thrives on filth florin filth, don't need her don't want her don't matter if her ass is fatter already had her I'll be damn if I flaunt her, thank God I evolved, broadened my scope no longer impressed at all. I’ve gone from black socks and hot sauce. A work in progress, that fact is not lost. The early years of galavanting with whores, raised my game, now I’ve advanced and matured, my current disposition, is a winning position. So I share jewels of how I made the transition. This is my bio, a day in the life?, nah!, my life as it is expressed with pen and a mic, truth! Chorus 2: Who Is He? West Coast dweller, the Black fist storyteller, Word! Who Is He? From mansions to project homes, he’s representin’ til the cows come home, jeeeah! Who Is He? Watch him let loose the ripper, he’s that Clarett juice sipper, Uggh! Who Is He? Mind of a hustler, grab the steel dope verse buster, jeeeeah! Verse 3: This ain't that geechie music laced with crack flow, it's that feel good, that harkens back to Afros. My style contains. More influence than what was given to Malcolm by Brother Baines, Payback’s his name he's complex, anomaly filled. If you can get like me then you probably will, But there's only one of me, uniquely designed. I live outside the matrix, and freein’ these minds. Like Neo as for me though you fiend for these rhymes, like addicts take a hit and feel the need to rewind. Mastered life tactics, now I out fox 'em. I'm real nice at this, peeps how I rocks 'em, you can play possum but I'm out to get it. Dig it, I'm conscious with no box when I spit it. Look and behold it's the truest. The life and times semi-colon Rob Lewis. Chorus 3: Who Is He? The Big Black Buck, cocked hat, far from your typical cat, jeeeah! Who Is He? He went from Watts to Rio, a hood superstar for real!, jeeeah! Uggh! Who Is He? This ain’t that coon rap, it’s that feel good spittin on dat boom bap, Uggh! Who Is He? Now ya know him, follow my lead believe he’s God’s chosen, … Right!

Opening Monologue: Uh-huh! Brotha Blink. One time Black Drop. It's an experience. Let me tell you about who I be. Verse 1: Bang bang boogie when I jump on the track, Brotha Blink, said that in my first rap. And now this is my new rap. When they ask if Blink and Black Drop that’s nice you must say true that! Blew that, roof off the house you built. Can't lie, no sense to cry over spilled milk, Can't lie, Y'all are like them little pigs. We’re the wolves came to blow your house down, ya dig? We came to remove all doubt. We’re grown men walkin’ out here we ain't chasin’ no clout. We’re standin’ on our own. Back to back, shoulder to shoulder in the center is the microphone. We protect what you see is what you get. You fugazi?, we authentic, check! We’re wolves in wolves’ clothing, lions in the lion's den. That means we’re a problem. Chorus: Bang bang boogie when I jump on the track, it’s Brotha Blink. If you're feelin’ that, say “Hooo!” Bang bang boogie when I jump on the track. Throw ya hands up and say “Go Go Go!” Bang bang boogie when I jump on the track, it’s Brotha Blink. If you're feelin’ that, say “Hooo!” Bang bang boogie when I jump on the track. Throw ya hands up and say “Go Go Go!” Verse 2: Who’s the one tryin’ to put my neck in a noose. No one gon’ speak up? Alright then, Duck Duck Goose. You can rise up, try and catch Brother Blink pop, But before you do that, I've done sat in your spot. Man I live hip hop, love to grab this mic and rock, Make moves, shake a brother out his socks. I'm breakin’ ankles, go to the hoop, bang on foes for fun, like Jordan the outcome, and one! Crowd goin’ wild from the floor to the rafters. Lyrical dominance, what I'm after. Lyrically preposterous, to get on after. Any stage Black Drop blaze and we mash up, The people, they’re standin’ they’re cheerin’, they’re lovin’ that, we walk through we’re gettin’ hugs and daps, Wanna battle? What’ll come from that? Go ahead and perform, I bet the people want their money back. Chorus

Opening Monologue: Yo! Here’s some stuff I learned when I was old. Every rhyme you write has a soul. It has a life. You breathed in it! So don’t disease in it. More healing more so pease. Please. You get it? Good. Verse: For the gods you feed in it, the odds you leave in it. Think not? Believe in it. At the close of manhood, you see different. You reflect and reminisce but change interests. You become more industrious, if you’ve worked as long as us, and confirmed that the best way for us is us. We trust in God, man is fickle. Phony as a bright ass copper nickel. Three for five dollars, it don’t mean shit. When the value of five dollars can’t buy shit! Dollars to pesos, live at six. You don’t quite know who you fuckin’ with. I can show you, better than tell you, that’s best this time. Fire next time? Done last time. You had a chance to wrong your rights. But when right goes wrong Yo! it’s time to fight. I float like a butterfly sting like a bomb. You will say, “What the fuck’s goin’ on?” Checkmate pawn, no Pun was intended. Destined for greatness, then he ascended. Like Elijah ascension, unexpected. Twenty-eight so soon, I was affected. I was twenty-six, his death hit home. I hoped that he and Cube would write new songs. And Joe and Cube would square it up. Grow old together and make some bucks. Like Cube and Common, they patched it up. It warmed my heart in Barbershop. I saw atonement, real to us. Why Farrakhan is just best for us. And Joel Osteen, magnanimous. Inspired by powers higher up. It’s evident it’s time to prequel sequels. It’s evident all men created equal. Three pop goes the weasel like Evel Knievel. Kingdom bestial, ceased deceasing them. From Nat King Cole back to Nat Turner teachin’ you. Right before the, widowers peaked in you. The widows would peak and the violence would cease. Came back years ago, returned like a thief. The lamb grew tired, the ram don’t sleep. I’m tryin’ to learn you, you’re too dumb to think. Keep your knives dull, I’ve sharpened my teeth. Sharpened my pen, pad on its back, Fucked the sheets! Came back comely! Don’t follow me, I’m not interested, fellowships wreak! I don’t get to know you, you left me in Crete Nigga!, Upside down and left side weak. Vision Peter with Pistol, Iron Sheiks. I’m Omar Caliph, son of Ander. Past purgatory, so fuck your slanders. Candid candor? Can’t stand your standards. Standin’ on bullshit, all you can handle. All you can eat, you gluttony pig. Gut him, fuck him up, punk his kids. What we do is what you did. Monkey see what monkey is, Nigga fucked with the Comely Kid! Removin’ my bib, playtime over, nothing under the bridge. Light like lightning then thunder it is. Nerd from the neighborhood, one of Herb’s kids. Baby boy got big Blood, cousin got sig. Related to both sides relativity kids. Probably outside your matrix, mentally, physically fit. Fit and finish, soundin’ splendid. Blink done blessed me with this, hittin’ hard threw everything at it. Kitchen sinkin’ this bitch. Brother O, Black Drop niggaz misfits with this. Havin’ a fit, consumption of nothing, it’s heaven sent, Sike I’m highly hyped joint blunt and a fifth. Started at three and got skipped, gifted talented shit. Fourth and fifth grade four months, shit promoted to six. Ostentatious resilience, juggernaut in this bitch. Knockin’ you over, barely bumped you, baby Huey the shit, wicked as the wickedest witch. Switch with a pitch fork. Callin’ Olsen watching Mork on a Stork. Hangin’ by a thread can’t take me to court. Ordered vision, hearin’ cantankerous court. Cantankerous court? Flashin’ in my head. Seein’ habeas corpus, fuckin’ foreign forces. Clouds then David Bennett, codes like Morse then. Arepo Opera Tenet. The Voynich Manuscript, inscribed within it. Defined parameters, present tenses. It makes no sense, but it sounds intense. Heavy as a foggy dawn, hydrant open water on. Hocus pocus! Word is bond. Can’t tell you how long you’ve been carryin’ on. You really never stopped, just changed your forms. We know form and function fucker, fucked up the norm. Storm, form and you can’t perform. Just another limp dick at the door. Don’t wanna be poor, tired of broke. Make America greater? Promissory notes, promise to give me acres. At this time fuck the mule G. Grant me any V12 Benz and GMC. I figure seven mil for each family that you sold for free. In exchange for servitude, involuntarily. Promise to pay every Black a mint. If they prove Sub Saharan African descent. Promise to give Natives their land back. Promise for all the immigrants. Who seek asylum, kingdom phylum. Genus species, homonyms, human men, and women Man! We said we found it evident, equality got set aside. We thought in days you would oblige. That was 1865, muthafucka what’s this? 1996. Goddamn! It’s 2020, that makes no sense! We know when shit is relative, we know when shit’s irrelevant. We know how yo’ ass sees evidence, what’s evident, your truth looks bent. Bend that shit back before we blow this bitch! Literally Moby Dick! Ismael start talkin’. Black Drop, Blink, and O keep it walkin’ nigga!