[Verse 1: Propaganda]
Man, they started me on Beat Street, sweet peas and Sunday school
Told me 'bout Noah's ark and how hurt was cool
Told me that black was a blessing and an honor
Truthful sojourner, here's a book on Nat Turner
Hot rented videos, on sandwich gyros
Hit me to my heritage like Miss Jane Pittman
Meanwhile church service I was never missing
Mama made me take notes to see if I was listening
Lived among the Mexicans so never did the Crip thing
'Stead they gave me cans to write my name up on the bricks thing
Big sister house dance, got friends, wrote raps
Mama saw her son getting addicted to the boom-bap
All the while God's training me to hear His voice
Cause only He knew that I would soon make a choice
Tagger slash rapper, son of a Black Panther
Got high hopes for him, "he gon' be a pastor"
Roll with the church boys, backpacks, or thugs?
Funny Lord's answer was all of the above
Son stay cool, son stay in school
Son, learn the road of God you was born to rule
My love, my Lord, my color, my God
School of the hard knocks, hi-hats and fat caps

[Hook]
That's what I'm about, return of the juke joint
Color of your rag homeboy is a moot point
Lift up your glass, let it blast from the jukebox
Come back homie, we was born to get hot
[Verse 2: Zane One]
Running down Beverley the way it be
When I was so young as I ran
So I overstepped how to feel young man
Wish I could go back, well I can't
School puppy love [?] dated
Slow dance romance, hip-hop truly saved me
Bible verse God first, skateboarding and the church
My back hurts and my dad always blamed Vietnam
Woodstock and top rocks is where I be
Mama said a man'll love me for all that I am
Walking a miracle's before you
Just talk to me, I surely won't bore you
Got a story of glory and it just might be unjust
To those who can't lend out a hand
So I say go, don't want you round my seas no mo'
Take a stand as a mother, Egyptian lover
Rattling cans, permanent markup
I love to rap, the bridge is over
Before Dr. Angelou chill with Oprah
This is cool, birth of a new one
Earthquakes riots and a strong sense of fashion
Daughter of a pastor and a poet
You know I'm gon' flow it
It's the return of the word, let it burn like you know it
[Hook]
That's what I'm about, return of the juke joint
Color of your rag homeboy is a moot point
Lift up your glass, let it blast from the jukebox
Come back homie, we was born to get hot

[Verse 3: Zane One]
Hot drought, I was skating in pools
Wood beats tag banging in different party crews
Conscious rap boom-bap jazz and [?]
[?] Cortez rocking to beats by Peace
Street names, hip-hop shop, the day I met the boys
'93 was off for me, jet exing out the toys
With Langston Hughes always true, getting to the point
Shimmy shake, your neck'll break juking to this joint

[Verse 4: Propaganda]
Don't mind me, I embrace every drip of blood inside me
I know the past ain't pretty but put together divinely
Widely misunderstood how God uses history
Devil meant for evil, He makes it so inspiring
Son to too many cities, crews and legends
Type to let the light through but ain't afraid to fight you
Unsung son of Native Tongues and theory
I lock up the camp and stock up your raps and sing
[Hook]
That's what I'm about, return of the juke joint
Color of your rag homeboy is a moot point
Lift up your glass, let it blast from the jukebox
Come back homie, we was born to get hot