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Words by Adrian Mitchell, music by Arlo Guthrie

Victor Jara of Chile
Lived like a shooting star
He fought for the people of Chile
With his songs
rhyme...

Check it out on the one, two, three...

Standin' 5'11", and I'm almost 6 feet
18 years old, rock a new beat
Got no nickname, stay the cool sane
and a spare in the back
Lord who could ever ask for more
Sitting up high as the world goes by
Kicking-up dust in your tracks
It's a matter of pride
Or you'll have to pick it up by 11
Wait a minute I got a meeting at 6
I can't pick it up by 7-ish
Therefore I must pick wait until tomorrow
Go to my man
rhyme...

Check it out on the one, two, three...

Standin' 5'11", and I'm almost 6 feet
18 years old, rock a new beat
Got no nickname, stay the cool sane
the future tracks from the past)
This is radio-mass (I'm a thief I stole the beat)
This is radio-mass (Tracks from the future tracks from the past)
This is
For the groove
And them bomb beats
To make me move

Color of dead
Looks like the future is history

Why you dissin' me
ain't no mystery
And them bomb beats
To make me move

Color of dead
Looks like the future is history

Why you dissin me
Ain't no mystery

On the outside peekin in
End of your
of my life

Remember then? bit o honey days
Back when 8-tracks were the craze with that Far-out sound
And the future seemed so far away
And we'd
at their future revealed

Why oh why oh did he fly out of Ohio
Before we knew that genes held the code
But taking to wing, is a haunting, daunting thing
But somehow we've gotten off-track
And we never really got it back, no, yeah
I think we better find a way, yeah
And get right back to the good old
walkin', the BBS rims flossin'
The beat walk in, harassin' the street walkin'
They keep talkin', like the Rebel might slow up
They set me up to go up,
Once about a time there was a kid
Who didn't have a bicycle or a car that skid
Only thing he had was Pat and Turner
He didn't know the future but
We work through the rituals and cover our poisonous tracks
Making good use of weaknesses, horoscopes, rumors and facts
Inspired by the needles
the zone all by myself
I'm alone all by myself, I'm on my own
But homes I could set the tone myself
And make the track that I could rap on myself

I wrote
Sassoon, chrome tones hear the moans of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge
hundred S drivin with hand on trigger
Crazy Lestat, check my track record
Everything I touch is gold since eighteen years old
So what that mean?  I roll
wrote that track last night
That's right
If me and that nigga battle it'll be his very last fight
Ate him up down to the last bite, with maple syrup
rock on)
We keep going

Nigga breath can tell by how you rap you don't believe
Ain't hungry no mo' so off me you feed
I hustle at a speed between greed
not by accident
I had a purpose and that purpose was to beat a beat purplish
Slaughter tracks, I done put my two dimes and a nickel in this s***
And I’m
not by accident
I had a purpose and that purpose was to beat a beat purplish
Slaughter tracks, I done put my two dimes and a nickel in this shit
And I’m
the ledge
By the alleged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge
One dose of my feroc hand held trigga cuts
Acapella spittin' shell paralyzed when you get touched
another boy who can rhyme and do the fly flips
And that’s I, Hi, I better get by because my ally
About to flip that crazy shit while I go look for some
the water and grits
They got another boy who can rhyme and do the fly flips
And that's I high I better get by because my ally
about to flip that crazy shit
Sassoon, chrome tones hear the moans of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge