(As usual, thanks to gizoogle.net for breaking this down into real talk. Also, this may either be the best thing I've ever done or the worst thing. Maybe both.)
I be aiiight ta join wit you todizzle up in what tha fuck will go down
up in history as tha top billin demonstration fo' freedom up in tha
history of our nation.
Five score muthafuckin years ago, a pimped out American, up in whose
symbolic shadow our crazy-ass asses stand todizzle, signed tha
Emancipation Proclamation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.
This momentous decree came as a pimped out beacon light of hope ta
mazillionz of Negro slaves whoz ass had been seared up in tha flamez of
witherin injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak ta end tha long night
of they captivity.
But one hundred muthafuckin years later, tha Negro still aint free.
One hundred muthafuckin years later, tha thuglife of tha Negro is still
sadly crippled by tha manaclez of segregation n' tha chainz of
discrimination. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. One hundred
muthafuckin years later, tha Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty
up in tha midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred
muthafuckin years later, tha Negro is still languishin up in tha cornerz
of American society n' findz his dirty ass a exile up in his own land.
Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So our crazy-ass asses have come here
todizzle ta dramatize a muthafuckaful condition.
In a sense our crazy-ass asses have come ta our nationz capital ta
chedda a cold-ass lil check. When tha architectz of our rehood
freestyled tha magnificent lyricz of tha Constipation n' tha Declaration
of Independence, they was signin a promissory note ta which every last
muthafuckin American was ta fall heir. This note was a promise dat all
men, yes, black pimps as well as white men, would be guaranteed tha
unalienable muthafuckin rightz of life, liberty, n' tha pursuit of
It be obvious todizzle dat Tha Ghetto has defaulted on dis
promissory note insofar as her playa hataz of color is concerned. Y'all
KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Instead of honorin dis sacred obligation, Tha
Ghetto has given tha Negro gangstas a funky-ass bad check, a cold-ass
lil check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But our
crazy-ass asses refuse ta believe dat tha bank of justice is bankrupt.
Our thugged-out asses refuse ta believe dat there is insufficient fundz
up in tha pimped out vaultz of opportunitizzle of dis nation. I aint
talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin
ass. So our crazy-ass asses have come ta chedda dis check -- a cold-ass
lil check dat will give our asses upon demand tha richez of freedom n'
tha securitizzle of justice. Our thugged-out asses have also come ta dis
hallowed spot ta remind Tha Ghetto of tha fierce urgency of now,
nahmeean, biatch? This is no time ta engage up in tha luxury of defin
off and ta take tha tranquilizin sticky-icky-icky of gradualism. Now is
tha time ta make real tha promisez of democracy. Now is tha time ta rise
from tha dark n' desolate valley of segregation ta tha sunlit path of
racial justice. Now is tha time ta lift our hood from tha quick sandz of
racial injustice ta tha solid rock of bruthahood. Y'all KNOW dat shit,
muthafucka! Now is tha time ta make justice a realitizzle fo' all of
It would be fatal fo' tha hood ta overlook tha urgency of tha moment.
This swelterin summer of tha Negroz legitimate discontent aint gonna
pass until there be a invigoratin autumn of freedom n' equality.
Nineteen sixty-three aint a end yo, but a funky-ass beginning. Those
whoz ass hope dat tha Negro needed ta blow off screw n' will now be
content will gots a rude awakenin if tha hood returns ta bidnizz as
usual. There is ghon be neither rest nor tranquilitizzle up in Tha
Ghetto until tha Negro is granted his playa hatershizzle rights. Da
whirlwindz of revolt will continue ta shake tha foundationz of our hood
until tha bright dizzle of justice emerges.
But there is somethang dat I must say ta mah gangstas whoz ass stand
on tha warm threshold which leadz tha fuck into tha palace of justice.
In tha procesz of bustin our rightful place our crazy-ass asses must not
be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let our asses not seek ta satisfy our
thirst fo' freedom by drankin from tha cup of bitternizz n' hatred.
Our thugged-out asses must forever conduct our struggle on tha high
plane of dignitizzle n' discipline. Our thugged-out asses must not allow
our creatizzle protest ta degenerate tha fuck into physical violence
fo' realz. Again n' again our crazy-ass asses must rise ta tha majestic
heightz of meetin physical force wit ass force. Da marvelous freshly
smoked up militancy which has engulfed tha Negro hood must not lead our
asses ta a thugged-out distrust of all peckerwoods, fo' nuff of our
white bruthas, as evidenced by they presence here todizzle, have come ta
realize dat they destiny is tied up wit our destiny. They have come ta
realize dat they freedom is inextricably bound ta our freedom. Our
thugged-out asses cannot strutt alone.
As our crazy-ass asses strutt, our crazy-ass asses must make tha
pledge dat our crazy-ass asses shall
always march ahead. Y'all KNOW dat
shit, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses cannot turn back. There is em
whoz ass is askin tha devoteez of civil rights, "When will you be
satisfied?" Our thugged-out asses can never be satisfied as long as tha
Negro is tha sucka of tha unspeakable horrorz of five-o brutality. Our
thugged-out asses can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy
wit tha fatigue of travel, cannot bust lodgin up in tha motelz of tha
highways n' tha hotelz of tha ghettos. Our thugged-out asses cannot be
satisfied as long as tha Negroz basic mobilitizzle is from a smalla
ghetto ta a larger one. Our thugged-out asses can never be satisfied as
long as our lil pimps is stripped of they selfhood n' robbed of they
dignitizzle by signs statin "For Whites Only". Our thugged-out asses
cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro up in Mississippi cannot vote n' a
Negro up in New York believes he has not a god damn thang fo' which ta
vote. Fuck dat shit, no, our crazy-ass asses is not satisfied, n' our
crazy-ass asses aint gonna be satisfied until justice rolls down like
watas n' righteousnizz like a mighty stream.
I be not unmindful dat a shitload of y'all have come here outta
pimped out trials n' tribulations. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass.
Some of y'all have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Right back up in
yo muthafuckin ass. Some of y'all have come from areas where yo' quest
fo' freedom left you battered by tha stormz of persecution n' staggered
by tha windz of five-o brutality. Yo ass done been tha veteranz of
creatizzle suffering. Continue ta work wit tha faith dat unearned
sufferin is redemptive.
Go back ta Mississippi, go back ta Alabama, go back ta Downtown
Carolina, go back ta Georgia, go back ta Louisiana, go back ta tha slums
n' ghettoz of our northern ghettos, knowin dat somehow dis situation
can n' is ghon be chizzled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Let our
asses not wallow up in tha valley of despair.
I say ta you todizzle, mah playas, so even though our crazy-ass asses
grill tha bullshiznit of todizzle n' tomorrow, I still gots a
thugged-out dream. It be a thugged-out trip deeply rooted up in tha
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle dis hood will rise up n'
live up tha true meanin of its creed: "Our thugged-out asses hold these
truths ta be self-evident: dat all pimps is pimped equal."
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle on tha red hillz of Georgia
tha lil playaz of forma slaves n' tha lil playaz of forma slave ballaz
is ghon be able ta sit down together all up in tha table of bruthahood.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle even tha state of
Mississippi, a state swelterin wit tha heat of injustice, swelterin wit
tha heat of oppression, is ghon be transformed tha fuck into a oasiz of
freedom n' justice.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat mah four lil lil pimps will one dizzle
live up in a hood where they aint gonna be judged by tha color of they
skin but by tha content of they character.
I gots a thugged-out trip todizzle.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one day, down up in Alabama, wit its
vicious racists, wit its governor havin his fuckin lips drippin wit tha
lyricz of interposizzle n' nullification; one dizzle muthafuckin right
there up in Alabama, lil black boys n' black hoes is ghon be able ta
join handz wit lil white boys n' white hoes as sistas n' bruthas.
I gots a thugged-out trip todizzle.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle every last muthafuckin
valley shall be exalted, every last muthafuckin hill n' mountain shall
be done cooked up low, tha rough places is ghon be done cooked up plain,
n' tha crooked places is ghon be done cooked up straight, n' tha glory
of tha Lord shall be revealed, n' all flesh shall peep it together.
This is our hope. This is tha faith dat I go back ta tha Downtown
with. With dis faith our crazy-ass asses is ghon be able ta hew outta
tha mountain of despair a stone of hope. With dis faith our crazy-ass
asses is ghon be able ta transform tha janglin discordz of our hood tha
fuck into a funky-ass dope symphony of bruthahood. Y'all KNOW dat shit,
muthafucka! With dis faith our crazy-ass asses is ghon be able ta work
together, ta pray together, ta struggle together, ta go ta jail
together, ta stand up fo' freedom together, knowin dat our crazy-ass
asses is ghon be free one day.
This is ghon be tha dizzle when all of Doggz lil pimps is ghon be
able ta rap wit a freshly smoked up meaning, "My fuckin ghetto, 'tiz of
thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where mah fathers
died, land of tha pilgrimz pride, from every last muthafuckin
mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if Tha Ghetto is ta be a pimped out hood dis must become true.
Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So let freedom rang from tha
prodigious hilltopz of New Hampshire. Let freedom rang from tha mighty
mountainz of New York. Let freedom rang from tha heightenin Allegheniez
Let freedom rang from tha snowcapped Rockiez of Colorado!
Let freedom rang from tha curvaceous slopez of California!
But not only that; let freedom rang from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom rang from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom rang from every last muthafuckin hill n' molehill of
Mississippi. From every last muthafuckin mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when dis happens, when our crazy-ass asses allow freedom ta ring,
when our crazy-ass asses let it rang from every last muthafuckin hood
n' every last muthafuckin hamlet, from every last muthafuckin state n'
every last muthafuckin hood, our crazy-ass asses is ghon be able ta
speed up dat dizzle when all of Doggz children, black pimps n' white
men, Jews n' Gentiles, Protestants n' Catholics, is ghon be able ta join
handz n' rap up in tha lyricz of tha oldschool Negro spiritual, "Jacked
at last, muthafucka! free at last, muthafucka! give props ta Dogg
Almighty, our crazy-ass asses is free at last!"