[Verse: Chuck D]
Little piece of my heart like Janis, no Joplin
But pure hip-hoppin' as they try to ban us
Crazy flight time, no jacket or ticket
Wilson Picket had soul fat tracks so the rappers could kick it
Alan freed the waves as much as Lincoln freed the slaves
It's here I bleed, and some bled until dead
I got the rhythm from this headbanger who used to fly high
And now he's just hangin' in the hanger
Hanging around home-less
In a city of no hope, I can't cope
And just to think, see, they used to call it dope