Artist: Himalayan Project Album: Wince at the Sun Song: Rebel Music Typed by: raycerx_lie@yahoo.com [Chee Malabar] Retribution through Rebel Music Walk the talk, like my feet and speech is tied by shoestrings Money's an adhesive, so broke folks use hope to glue things My mood swings, in tune with the moon's whims Groomed since, the age of six, to be a true prince But reality bites, and my life got serpent sized toothprints A seer said I'd appear, to cheers and jeers, tears and fears The king, of ten thousand years, from Baroda's Fathehgunj housing spheres Yea, I was given this language, a palette Of 26 alphabets, through immaculate steps Sought the truth, like Malcolm X did through with Islamic texts As a youth, pledged allegiance, put my palm on my chest Now I scribble over scriptures to manifest this palimpsest [Hook] Rebel Music, my people, my culture my thoughts Rebel Music, the haves, the have not's Rebel Music, Reggae, Blues, Jazz and rock Rebel Music, it's hip hop, it's hip-hop [Rainman] Rebel music infused in the hearts of those that feel like revolution is useless People power abused and battered My generation raised in mental malaise Confused and calibrated, believing that our opinions, never matter Our brain patterns were hammered to flat-lines Cookie cutter, conformed to lack spines and act blind While the social-economic gap climbs We funnel funds for guns and gasses Electricity and lethal injects for asses Prison expansions – for people with black skin and Hispanics This is the rightwing bandage for Americans damaged and left behind My mic flex testifies, through the silence Cause I will not leave my people dumb deaf and blind I speak my mind, spit life lines Cause knowledge and word power is death defying [Hook] [Chee Malabar] Someone once said, America's a Melting Pot the people at the bottom get burned, while the scum always seem to float to the top ack, send seven shots from glocks at Trent Lott they ain't upset that he said it, they mad he got caught might as well use the constitution as toilet tissue ‘cause ain't shit changed since 1964, duke De-facto segregation exists, dissident voices, diluted then muted Through the strategic placements of polls and voting booths, and Since we don't sit, where decisions get made I wouldn't piss on a burning bush to extinguish the flames Axis of evil, Jihad and crusades, so who's sane? (Hussein) Saddam got napalm and thangs, while we build nukes, talkin' disarmament To you my religion is seen as voodoo Fuck you, I'll consider Christ when your pope is Desmond Tutu [Rainman] What makes a rebel? Your clothes? Particular pro's? Or the rhythms and tones in your headphones What you know in your bones, or what you show What makes a man leave his humble abode to throw stones Already knowing he ain't never going home – Do you know? What made a student stand-alone and raise his hand to a tank? What made a businessman on a flight, take the fight to fanatics with knives What made a ballplayer pick up his bat, swing for the fences and hold back His desire to retaliate to hate This music's just a taste, the truth is what you make when faced with high stakes In this world dominated by hate, we on the hook like live bait But some of us fighting, others enlighten But most of us just hanging around What if we all spoke? Could you imagine the sound of people power moving mountains and shaking the ground? [Hook]