My name is Sant
of the B-L-E-N-D
and I came to rock the mic cold like the north of poles
and break it down to the sub-degree
I don’t ride the saddle or wagon in it just to battle combatants
because I do not like to deal with the weak
So get control over those egos,
and tell your girlfriend to stop stealin’ the sheets

Man bravado got played out and drained out since it came out
and stayed out, cos’ everybody loves a brave mouth
Spittin’ that steam and the hollow flames out,
but won’t do shit when I’m up in their face,
now without substance, there is no function,
so nix the nonsense and cut straight to the subject
I hate to wait to make sense out of nothin’
and I got three minutes ‘til I break for lunch, kid (peace)

My name’s out like sunshine to gray clouds
but won’t get press unless I’m shootin’ a plane down.
Complain about the stakes of fame now,
but hear me talkin’ different when they got me paid out.
Wise lies, and the price for them…
it ain’t about that or idle threats, how high you get,
whether or not you sound like the Heiruspecs,
or make a million from the mics you check.

I ain’t likely or liable to sweat cos’ that ain’t my custom,
you could tell Judy, Jake, Dan, Frank, and Justin,
“Cash comes last, keep my people in front,kid
and understand The Blend ain’t nothin’ to fuck with”.
Actually, to hell with this, I quit.
I’d rather roam alone and punch holes in telephone poles.
Promotin’ shows is my gift and curse,
worst comes to worst, my staple gun comes first.

Peace to the street teams puttin’ in work
hangin’ on every corner and word.
It’s urban struggles, and the black burden
I work with, and make sure the movement’s still movin’ with a purpose
like my verse is always in motion like a coffeehouse stir stick.
We are The Blend, with the A-I-M,
yea yea, always in motion.
-
Chorus
Like I Said, I know you’re tryin’ to get your piece of the pie,
so brotha tell me why ya reachin’ for mine?
Represent I will. We hold it down ‘til it’s standin’ still
not concerned with the hype or thrill,
and like I said, we can’t settle for a piece of pie, when The Blend’s more than beats and rhymes.
-
His name is Spence
of the B-L-E-N-D
and he came to rock the drums cold like the north of poles,
and break it down to the uh! degree.
He doesn’t ride the saddle or wagon,
in it just to battle combatants because he doesn’t like to deal with the weak.
So, get control over those egos
and tell ya’ homeboy to stop stealin’ the beats

cos’ samplin’ ain’t impressive
unless dressed with and mixed with
your own sound down to Pete Rock perfection.
So, listen everybody freshwomen and freshmen,
check the syllabus and pay close attention.
Ya wanna blend in, but not look desperate,
wanna kick it with the crowd and still be independent
with a fashionable taste, flavor of the semester,
party hard and be awake for breakfast.

But, the rules of the game don’t always allow you to swang that way
Can’t have yo cake, can’t have yo cake, can’t have yo cake
(Don’t expect respect kid, when ya’ so damn selfish tryin’ to have yo cake
andalways be the one to digest it.)
See where we come from talent isn’t the question.
The scene is locked up with circles and connections.
Yea, we take pride bein’ on the outside,
now watch out as I push the press, ch-check it
-
Chorus
-
I was talkin’ to my main man Zach from Kanser,
he said “Ya’ make a better rock star than rapper”.
Well really is it that or, the fact that I rap poor?
Cos’ shit, I don’t know the answer I ain’t that sure
what hip hop is in Minneapolis.
Ya’ gets no love if ya’ ain’t established,
emcees don’t write, they’re too busy battlin’,
drunk freestyles get mistaken for talent…

Well, we let go instead of grippin’ a crutch’.
Yea, the label of “hip hop” we’re givin’ it up.
A lot of people felt entitled and convinced they’re a judge
of definin’ titles while we fit the definition of none.
You’re as likely to catch me listenin’ to P-Funk
as you could find me in Edina bumpin’ Hilary Duff.
This is so much bigger than what you thought it was,
I’m afraid ya’ cap and doo rag isn’t enough.

So, let go of your hype and prided tunnel vision.
My god, have we been reduced to one image,
one sound, one skin tone, one style,
no love whoever doesn’t fit the profile?
You could rock shows in domes to full crowds,
own thrones, big homes, platinum, and gold crowns,
and wreak of emptiness because you cannot hold a smile.
I’m happy for the people I know. We know how

to rock it simply for the love like my man Snakebird
and the kids from St. Paul, you know, Word 4 Word.
I fell in love with Wicker Park in the midst of Chicago
like the coffeeshop girl bumpin’ Badnewsjones.
It’s only natural we stay compatible,
support the people from beneath like avenues.
Until then, keep conscious and keep sight
and stand your ground like streetlights.