The Mook (by me, last week)

Let me kick off a little story about a cat named Mook,
Lived in some Bronx P.J.’s around 72,
Didn’t have much, but much isn’t what he needed,
Cause in his poverty he learned his soul was undefeated,
Started spinnin’ records, pullin’ people together, whatever, the weather, the level, the rebel, he was a microphone devil,
Pretty soon Mook rocked the biggest parties on the block,
It was like he answered the questions, and had the keys to the lock,
When his fingers hit the tables it was like her forgot, he started wigglin’ and movin’ and performin’ to the beat, by the time it was over there was a new trend on the street,
Couldn’t dance the old ways when you heard Mook’s tunes, so kids was makin’ up new moves to match the scratch in his grooves,
Mook stayed really humble, it didn’t get to his head, cause he gotta lotta dap, but notta, lotta bread,
Now the 80’s went around it went from bad to worse, Mook was noticing some came last and others came first, it was him who conveyed some kind of Reaganomic curse,
The folks in the P.J’s they had no clue, so Mook started spittin’ on it when he played his tunes,
Started speaking bout the system, speaking bout the lies,
Rappin’ bout the violence he witnessed with his eyes,
Mook told his neighbors stand together, band for greater strength,
Went to pure waters and expanding minds and states,
This cat was all about community, and keeping folks in unity, cause that’s the root of the tree, and the voice of the free, its gotta be you, its gotta be me, to take responsibility and stand up on our own two feet,
And folks were getting’ and pumpin’ it, and playing it loud, and where they used to live in shame, folks were suddenly proud,
Things were going fresh word up for a couple of years, cause Mook was speaking the truth, and he had the youth’s ears,,,, but things changed, Mook changed, hip hop changed too…..
One day Mook got tired of living off just respect, started looking for that money that ASCAP royalty check,
Drinking at the club just a little too much, hanging with the kids he used to mistrust,
Stopped talking bout unity and standing together,
Started talking get my chedda, whenever, wherever,
Got caught up in the actions of life and its strife, didn’t realize his so called friends pulled out a butterfly knife
Slit his throat, took Mook’s sound and claimed it as their own,
The sound of mook’s voice, man to this day its gone, when I roll through the hood I hear the echoes of his songs, mostly what I hear is where Mook went wrong,
the downfall of Mook, the downfall of his soul, the downfall of hip hop, the downfall of the call, the downfall of character, the downfall of us all!
[Edited 11/8/06 19:37pm]