[Intro: Hell Razah]

Renaissance

Razah Rubies

Let's go, tell 'em

[Verse 1: Hell Razah]

I was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams

Now it be a Maccabees, spreading my wings (Spread 'em)

I ain't trippin' off material bling

I analyze off of Billie Holiday, the Queen

What was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme

To Trouble Man?

Why his pops had a gun in his hand? Damn

Hip-Hop go to way back then

Daddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends

I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin

I got my first gold front from Ben

Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems

Most niggas learned a lot from him

Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke

Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red Hook

Same hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook

In them criminal books, we don't look

When crack hit, I could never forget

In '92, Mr. Daly was hit by gun clips

You had to pump if you wanted some kicks

The best product on the block, it was quicker to flip

We had whips, but it wasn't legit

I reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit

'76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift

To uplift, by the name Chron Smith

[Interlude: Hell Razah]

Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith

Special love and respect

To real true pioneers (Yeah)

People like Ray Charles (We in here)

Barry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on

[Verse 2: Talib Kweli]

Yo, yo, it's like we all just beads on a string

Son is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring

From a cut opened up above his right eye

Body all black and blue, like the Brooklyn night sky, uh

Bobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda

My raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's

My momma had the fly afro

My father cooked for a week and leftovers with casserole

We didn't have much, but with a little bit of love

Made due with the little bit we had, yo

We in a new millennium, Granny still sing hymns low

Jim Crows still keep the blacks po'

Look, we blessed with the power to move people with music

It's the natural resources, and we use it

To broadcast and transmit live from Hell

What don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm alive to tell

[Interlude: Hell Razah]

Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man

Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall

Make sure it say, "Renaissance Child"

Talib Kweli, MF DOOM, written for the babies

Let's go

[Verse 3: Viktor Vaughn]

Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North

Of course New York floss, don't know blue pork

Before you walk across, look both ways

The third and the fourth of them nowaday ofays

Kept a dog on a wooden leg

And hustled all night in the fog on the reg

Even dressed like a bum and could beg

Instead, did the other on the strength, what a good egg

Been bred to win, since head spins, ooh, them gems

Spread too thin, depends on who's losin'

Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?

The gang's all here

Enough combined slang to bang all year

It's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before

Report for lawless bosses off shore

With horses, hay and tablets, made 'em with rabbits

Habits 'til they hate 'em and had it, damn it

And he's Gone With the Wind

Dead wrong, a song with a spin and a grin

Out of style with the blow-out, the mild-mannered smile

Like a foul wild Spaniard on the show-out

Vaughn, the one you trick-a-don

Why stick it, if you gotta slip a slicker on? Viktor Vaughn

[Outro: Hell Razah]

Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on

As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end

All the fathers with the godfathers, Hip-Hop lives forever and ever

And ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies

From generation to generation, that's right, aight?

One love... and we out of here