Lyrics of 'Telegram' by Saul Williams

I'm falling up flights of stairs, scraping myself from the sidewalk, jumping from rivers to bridges, drowning in pure air
Hip Hop is lying on the side of the road, half dead to itself
Blood scrawled over its mangled flesh, like jazz, stuffed into an oversized record bag
Tuba lips swollen beyond recognition
Diamond studded teeth strewn like rice at karma's wedding
The ring bearer bore bad news
Minister of information wrote the wrong proclamation
Now everyone's singing the wrong song
Dissonant chords find necks like nooses
That nigga kicked the chair from under my feet
Harlem shaking from a rope, but still on beat
"Damn that loop is tight" Nigga, found a way to sample the way the truth the light Can't wait to play myself at the party tonight
Niggas are gonna die
Cop car swerves to the side of the road
Hip Hop takes its last breath
The cop scrawls vernacular manslaughter onto a yellow pad, then balls the paper into his hand, deciding he'd rather free-style
"You have the right to remain silent"
You have the right to remain silent
You have the right to remain silent. And maybe you should have before your bullshit manifested.

These thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out Niggas think I'm bugged out, 'cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out
This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that. This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black
So where my aliens at?
Girl, we're all illegal
This system ain't for us It's for rich people
And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money
But you can't buy shit to not get hungry.

Telegram to Hip Hop: Dear Hip Hop .(stop)
This shit has gone too far (stop)
Please see that mixer and turntables are returned to Kool Herc. (stop)
The ghettos are dancing off beat. (stop)
The master of ceremonies have forgotten that they were once slaves and have neglected the occasion of this ceremony. (stop)
Perhaps we should not have encouraged them to use cordless microphones, for they have walked too far from the source and are emitting a lesser frequency (stop). Please inform all interested parties that cash nor murder have been added to the list of elements. (stop)
We are discontinuing our current line of braggadocio, in light of the current trend in "realness". (stop)
As an alternative, we will be confiscating weed supplies and replacing them with magic mushrooms, in hopes of helping niggas see beyond their reality. (stop)
Give my regards to Brooklyn
These thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out Niggas think I'm bugged out, 'cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out
This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that. This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black
So where my aliens at?
Girl, we're all illegal. This system ain't for us
It's for rich people
And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money
But you can't buy shit to not get hungry