When hip-hop was born she had no commercial home, and was an invention of beautiful creativity. Born from a beautiful struggle, today she is mostly a 'ratchet' bitch spitting nonsense from her pimp's mansion.

Hopeful dreams - even where crack kings’ and dope fiends feast. Dust from the ash and rubble; they shine like bright stars once the mic is gripped and the bars are spit.

Change lives on the horizon.

If soul does not evolve it is dead... even if its body still breathes.