Walking down the street
Pavement, blacktop
In between the smoke shops
And the dope spots
There is a place called Planet Rock
How do you get to Planet Rock?
Get off the 87 Bus
Go up two blocks
And there you got it, you’ve arrived at Planet Rock
The raddest of the rec, record shops.
Where the music never stops
And the doors have no locks
Cause the party never stops
The DJ never drops
And the poets set up shop
At Planet Rock.
And the jazz backdrop
Mixed with the classic be-bop
Mixed with the Punk rock and hip to the hop
You know where you’re at
If you are Planet Rock.
Where they got 33s and shit ton of CDs
45s and mixtapes with rude rude beats
From the freshest emcees.
And you’ll see me, and my dog Obi
And anyone else who wants to let it go freely
Freed by the beats and the poetry.
And you know we can’t stop
When Preem On the beat.
The bop don’t stop
The beats they drop
The hips they hop…
The la di dadi
We like to party,
We don’t cause trouble
We don’t bother no body.
Slick on the lyrical fitness
End this poem with


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His new book is Train of Thought.