Story Behind The Song

Flaco and Proph wanted to create a song that was uplifting without sounding too preachy and the end results was "Sign Of The Rhyme," one that projects the feeling of consciousness over youth acting ignorantly. Instead, a theory of using more productive ways to settle differences will in turn saves us all.

Song Description

Basically, this song is about how times have changed for the youth. Instead of using creative ways to settle their differences, kids are currently resorting to violence and other negative social endeavors. Flaco and Proph express themselves over a dusty funk-layen track and deliver a message that they endorse a new breed that fights their wars with metaphors.

Lyrics

Verse 1:

Out the gate I need room there's not enough / So I boom Shak attack all imposter Puffs / I'm much too much and you're as soft as Fido / You're better off trying to be American Idol / Like Big Rue but you're phony half true / The other half is homo and into dude / that's gettin' into you like Internal Revenue / When you owe loot and don't file your W-2 / You're though it's enough here in eight bars / To have straight scared like Chinese to SARS / Got ya feelin' ours like itchy Chicken Pox / In a chick's box chickens itch alot / Non-stop and the majors won't sign me / Deep under like Bin Laden and they won't find me / till I finally decide to bring it to the surface / With the purpose of servin' 'em from LA to Corpus / Christi to Findlay Detroit to the T / Back and forth again with Slam Identity

Chorus 1:

This is the sign of the rhyme due to the fact we live in these times / Kids ten years younger than us squeeze nines / So we look up to the sky and ask why / Instead of spittin' a verse they let the bullets fly / But we the new breed plantin' our own seed / Comin' from the bottom like squid and seaweed / We ain't carryin' biscuits or swingin' them swords / We fightin' our wars with metaphors

Verse 2:

Proph is comin' yo you better grab your crew and your deejay and your one groupie and start runnin' / I studied your vital body parts and mapped you / So get up and shake the hand of the one who slapped you / "What did Proph do," I asked my favorite fan / "You Dropped The Bomb On Me" remember Gap Band / Well hell yeah around 1982 right / We made the funk with Parliament and held the flashlight / We stayin' alive like John Travolta / Freezin' ya brain like the mind of Minolta / Grill ya ass like a shish-ka-bob / When I play my own version of "How To Steal And Rob" / You sloppy emcees get cancur sores / Bitin' our material like hot cereal / Oh yeah we got somethin' for you and your boys to bite on / It's long and black better yet you choose the firearm / I be that rhino rotatin' on your vinyl / Fade me in with Billy cuz I'm your idol

Chorus 2:

This is the sign of the rhyme due to the fact we live in these times / Kids ten years younger than us squeeze nines / So we look up to the sky and ask why / Instead of spittin' a verse they let the bullets fly / But we the new breed plantin' our own seed / Comin' from the bottom like squid and seaweed / We ain't carryin' biscuits or swingin' them swords / We fightin' our wars with metaphors

Verse 3:

Yo a beat this hot make me perspire / Like sittin' in a hundred degrees with four flat tires / I strip that ass down to the wire / Strike a match light the pyre and feed the fire / LA emcee Laker title wisher / Leave you on the bench heartbroke cryin' like FIsher / Pigs don't know when I take weed to the neck / Cuz I keep my J-Low like Ben Affleck / I tap out a beat on my MPC bet / And stay grimey like a mechanic's socket set / Quit sniffin' me out tryin' to find clues / Look at you now crews you're wearing cement shoes / You Special Ed. emcees ride yellow school buses / Wear hard-plastic helmets and padded knees sissies / I'm boilin' at 212 degrees / Seven O-2 tanks won't help you breathe / Your soft kid like Easter bunnies and Santa / I rip mics and flip like Eric Bana / Incredible so let it go like an adoption / If I'm locked in walking won't be an option / Cuz I drops 'em like we did in Iraq / Furious blasts non-stop attacks /Burn tracks to create wax like a candle / And channel frequencies to seek and dismantle / Through your flannel unravel the phony Soprano / Acting boss will get your whole head scrambled / I'm cold as Lambo hot as Mojave / Get homeland security to try and stop me / Or lobby againt me smokin' grass / Do anything you can just to save yo ass / Or just pass the mic to avoid the torture / Waiting for me to rip and destroy ya