[If you were gonna pick one track from the early 90s NYC hip-hop scene as an example of an "anthem", DWYCK would be an excellent candidate. DJ Premier lays down one of his finest beats, Greg Nice delivers a verse with his typical panache (spelling out words, mispronouncing words, referencing a range of cultural icons, throwing in some french, and ending up in regions uncharted by the lucid), Guru asserts his street cred while talking about lemonade, and Smooth B. steps in to wrap it up with rhymes about smoking up and some brilliant silliness about rhinos. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and that's pretty much the beauty of it. Three MCs and one DJ at the top of their game, having a blast, and bringing you the sound of the party.]
Gang Starr has gots to be the sure shot
Nice & Smooth has gots to be the sure shot
Gang Starr has got to be the sure shot
Nice & Smooth has got to be the sure shot
Greg Nice! Greg N-I-C-E!
Droppin a bass oh, ah oui oui
Rock for a fee
Not for free
Maybe I'll do it for charity
Now my employer, or my employee
Is makin' Greg N-I-C-E very M-A-D
Don't ever ever think of jerkin' me
I work too hard for my royalty
Put lead in ya ass, and drink a cup of tea
Peace to Red Alert and Kid Capri
Ooh la la, ah oui oui
I say Muhammad Ali, you say Classius Clay [sic]
I say butter, you say Parkay
It's alright if you wanna make a sway
I'm a way up town, took duece to the tre
I originate, they duplicate
I praise the lord and keep the faith
It's alright, keep bitin' at tha bait
'92, ooh, one year later
Peace out, Premier, take me out with the fader...
I chant eeny meeny, miny, moe
I wreck the mic like a pimp pimps hoes
Here's how it goes, I am a genius, I mean this
I shake this you'll take this
I'm kinda fiendish
You wish that you could come into my neighborhood
Meaning my mental state
Still, I'm 5 foot 8
Crazy as I wanna be
'Cause I make it orderly
You could say I'm sorta da boss, so get lost
The brotha that will make you change opinions
Dominions, I'm in them when it's time to kick shit
From the heart, plus I get a piece of the action
I'm feelin' satisfaction from the street crowd reaction
Chumps pull guns when they feel afraid, too late
When they dip in the kick they get sprayed
Lemonade was a popular drink, and it still is
I get more props and stunts than Bruce Willis
A poet like Langston Hughes and can't lose when I cruise
Out on the expressway
Leavin' the bodega, I say "suav-eh"
Premier's got more beats than barns got hay
Clips are inserted into my gun
So I can take the money, never have ta run...
I left my Phillie at home, do you have another?
I wanna get blunted, my brother
Now may I make a mark
Then make a spark over this fat track,
Or should I say dope beat?
Subtract, delete
All of the wick wack that wanna be abstract
But they lack the new knack that's comin' from way way back
Hey yo, Premier, please pass that buddah sack
You hear we quit?
No way, bullshit
I told ya before we come back wit' more hits
I provide bright flava, so you can sketch me
Do me a favor, don't try and catch me
Step me ahead of the game, I'm not a lame
Ask him, he'll tell you the same, he knows my name: Smooth
I drop jewels like paraphernalia
I'm infallable, not into failure
Like a rhinoceros, my speed is prosperous
And pure knowledge expands from my esophagus
I write here tonight to bring truth to the light
My dialogue is my own, 'cause Smooth B will never bite...
[Additional reading: An interview with Guru wherin he explains the meaning of the term "Dwyck", a well-worded appreciation of the song in question. Peace out, Premier, take me out with the fader...]
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