love the jazzzz beat cant get enough of shit like this

2nd fav song song the album...  the whole album is in my Auditory Obsession list for May 

being from chicago i fucking love all the name drops

Dope track but 89.3 held chicago underrdround Dj 3rd Rail  6ft under show on sunday 12am-6am over 25 years

listened to this hundreds of times in my day

2000 Classic from Typical Cats off the debut self-titled LP. 

88.5 Chicago. Yeah. 
I shoot the gift on the radio station 
88.5 WHPK was the only station that would fuck with rap 
88.5 Chicago. On the radio station. 
Takin' a train [repeat/fade] 

The thin red line is the thin spine 
I roll down the back of a city overgrown and overtaxed 
The wack stands of the rich pick a thin 
pockets bare and scatter, the skeletons of cultures with no rent control 
Pattering feet of prostitutes and penny brown 
children trades glass glades sweet for someone to pay or to listen 
I glisten like the question in the shorty's eyes 
sleeping in the train-car at the Lawrence stop when I get in 
Making pillows out of bare arms while I'm posturing poems 
but I can't name these eyes or the idea of less than home 
Home be unfinished it that fate hasn't sown 
in the skirt of an evening over mornings waste blown 
I see the moon I see the go going by on stilts 
as mouths wilt and turn blinded to girls' eyes 
Fate's hands have holes, we hold hope by the collar 
color red the closed eyes shut tight on the dollar 
Wills rock-heads to sleep, my eyes peal all the way 
to memorize a sleeping girl's face and bring it to PK 

Oh, shit I'm late I got a bus to make to take the 35th and State 
Get on the Dan Ryan red line and head downtown 
With head down experience life in surround sound 
Rhythematic speech occurs when the crowd's around 
Besides I'm still waiting on the train, plus I'm late already 
and how the fuck am I gonna get downtown and back to WHPK 
Man its already 8:40, too much thinkin 
I gotta keep this freestyle steady, now freestyles over things 
like this point to the fact that I'm sober 
I need weed, yo fuck the mission to the record store 
to put CD's on consignment just for fickle fans to not buy it, 
I thought they liked violence but anyway skip downtown 
I turn around I hear the train coming, head out now 
Train stop, hop in the backseat like a fuckin' taxi 
and I heard that DJ Nat be having fat sacs a weed 
Get off and catch the 55th and Garfield to University 
Hyde Park chill, I feel a dark chill when I hit the building 
Here with the intention to kill it 
Finally made it now where the hell is Qwel and Denizen? 

Reasons run thin by the end of the line 
but the signs can be read if you learn them in time [x2] 

Yo it's already Wednesday night, time for HPK's rap show 
but waitin' on sacs yo makes me late 
Fuck it gotta hit this open mic 
hopin' to leave stress at the rest so I can flow tonight 
I grab my rhyme book and hit the elevator 
lighter square freestyle the tale I'ma tell later 
Hike to the thin red line that's Sheridan 
by the time my name dries waitin' for the train here it is 
Amongst the chatter of workdays and old dreams 
The thin red line holds me to window seats 
The wind blows beats with sin don't sleep 
but neither can I with open mics on my mind 
My pen and pad describe 65-minute lifetimes 
from Sheridan to Hyde Park provides spark tight lines 
Who's these Typical Cats flexin' insane 
"It's the Q-W-A", "Denizen Kane" 

Good to see yall cats late again some typical shit 
For sure don't sweat it Denizen, yo it's cool that you made it in 
Yo my bad Denizen I had to catch some medicine 
Oh I feel the pharmacology, cats were just guessin' when 
we three breath these free prophecies 
Catch me settin' outer limits to these than HP 
to MC's that hate me probably cause they take themselves too seriously 
My fear is not being there you see to hear'em speak 
fo sho you know these flea-bitten felines is found 
And the loose tooth get left in the booth 
that's my man Dan in a fine fickle fix of fellowship and fools frontin' 
Fact remains Benneton ads on crack make you move something 
Similar to Hi-Tek and Talib only at hi-speed, fools frontin' 
but the fact remains they still won't do nothing 
Who's bluffin', fuck that, I'm all concerned with whose cuttin' 
Yo fuck who's cuttin', yo it's cool if you two dudes is puffin', huh skid? 
Not to crush this fat rap oh shit check out this Typical Cat Nat scratch 

[DJ Natural cuts it up] 


Thin Red Line

In the final years of the last millenium, two native New Yorkers added a page to Chicago's hip hop history with the advent of the WHPK Wednesday Night Rap Show. Although short-lived and never formally christened, the Show had heads from Roosevelt to the Hundreds stuck on 88.5 FM midweek. In the show's aftermath, from the ashes of countless vinyl crates and echoes of chaotic show-closing freestyle sessions, Typical Cats was born. 

Featuring MCs Qwazaar, Qwel and Denizen Kane, producer/dj Natural and media assassin Kid Knish, Typical dropped a self-titled full-length on Galapagos4 Records and began a relentless campaign to restore a fallen hip hop world to its former promise and glory. The talent assembled was unmistakable, the sound created was formidable. Firmly planted in tradition, unorthodox in invention and possessed of a strength only earned in the furnace of experience, their Sound is the Future that hip hop's Past would have had if its Present weren't held hostage by the uninspired and unrepentant. A flurry of solo projects later, Chicago's prodigal sons return. Hip hoppers rejoice. Suckers duck and cover. Typical Cats come to conquer. Battle champs, hotline legends, poetry circuit kings. 

Tuck Your Pride In 'Cause All Lyrics Connect At The Soul. And it's on and it's on and it's on. 

QWAZAAR - A native of Chicago's gritty Low End, Qwazaar strikes from hip hop's essence. Whether the subject matter is inner city or interplanetary, the flow remains untouchable - a percussive yet fluid attack that evokes South Side rain and helicopter blades in a single breath. The content is heavy- "After the dust settles, witness the blood puddles..." Lights out, kids. The Q-W-A is here. 

QWEL - You first seen his name dangling a quarter mile up on a suspension bridge from your scratch-bombed window on the Orange line. You first heard that distinctive melodic/abrasive storm of syllables on old Nacro and Scam Artist tapes with inserts printed at the Kinko's. Now the heat's been perfected-and this nasty North Side revelation music rebel is out to wake the sleepers. From Ted Turner's devil ass to the so-called competition-everyone and their mama gets dealt with when the kid laces up his boots. 

DENIZEN KANE - From the rum and coke rumble of Chicago's North Side flow spots to the celluloid veneer of Def Poetry Jam's main stage, Denizen Kane rips the party with a poet's heart and an outsider's eye. Journalistic, impressionistic, real-life and drastic, young Kane's late night Red Line revelations turn into heathen hymns on tape, capturing the moody face of the metropolis in color. How long can a lost one roam until he finds his way home? Listen to your city fall apart through the muddy mouth of an immigrant.

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