Saul Williams...poetryslam anyone?

[Lilyhoney]

There are a couple of versions of it, but the one I have is set to a simple drum beat, some beat-boxing, and a little violin.

http://www.saulwilliams.com/



Don't Drop The Beat by Saul Williams

I will not rhyme on tracks, N***** on a chain gang used to do that, Waaaaay back.
I will not rhyme over tracks, N***** on a chain gang used to do that, Waaaaaaaaay back.
Don't drop the beat on me, Don't drop the beat, noooo.
I am not the son of Sha-clack-clack, I am before that. I am before. I am before, before. Before death is eternity, after death is eternity there is no death, there’s only eternity. And I be riding on the wings of eternity like shea – shea – she sha-clack-clack. Get me the fuck off this track.
As if the heart beat was not enough, they got us using drum machines now. Drums become machines trying to make our drums become hum-drum. Trying to make our magic's …. Instruments … be political prisoners up inside computers.
As if the heart were not enough, As if the heart were not enough.
And as heartbeats bring percussions fallen trees bring repercussions. Cities play upon our souls like broken drums. We drum the essence of creation from city slums, but city slums mute our drums, and our drums become hum-drum cuz city slums have never been where our drums are from. Just the place where our daughters and sons become … off-beat heartbeats, slaves to city streets. When hearts get broker and heartbeats stop, broken hearts become break-beats for things to rhyme on top. But …
I won't rhyme on top no tracks, N***** on a chain gang used to do that, Waaaaaay back
Don't drop the beat, noooo
Not until you've listened to Rakim on rocky mountaintop have you heard hip-hop. Extract the urban element that created and it let the open countryside illustrate it. Riding in a freight train in the freezing rain listening to Coltrane my reality went insane and I think I saw Jesus. He was playing hop-skotch with Betty Carter who was cursing him out in a scab like gibberish for not saying butter-fingers. And my fingers run through grains of sand like seeds of time, the pains of man, the frames of mind which built these frames, which is the structure of my urban superstructure. The planes and trains can corrupt and obstruct your planes of thought so that you can forget how to walk through the woods, which ain't good cuz you ain't never walked through the trees. Listening to nobody beats the biz. And you ain't never heard hip-hop. And you must stop …. That damn track from going, please don’t drop the beat. Don’t drop the beat, noooo
Cuz I will not rhyme on tracks, N***** on a chain gang used to do that, Waaay back.
Don’t drop the beat, my heart beat … goes on.
And on.
And on.
***End song***

Pasted from <http://vidman.ca/members/baffum/p/20>