ReMix:Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney "spirit of law" 4:26

[Del Close and John Brent excerpts sampled from How to Speak Hip]

Detective Tuesday:

Yeah.
melody... and I'm Tuesday.

Please, be seated.

Del Close:

Mr. Romo, I must admit that I'm puzzled. You hipsters claim to be such relaxed, free spirits, yet your rules for social behavior are even more set tight and rigid than those of square society.

John Brent:

Yes, uh... a-a lot of the simple, everyday behavior is illegal. And so there's always a lot of heat on the scene. Now, if you break the rules of hip, you get put down, that's true. But you break the square rules and they throw you in the slam, and that's a big difference.

Detective Tuesday:

Court is now in session. Check it.

Prosecution ready, Defense ready,
Tuesday in front of the judge, things could get heavy.
"Your honor, I don't kill beats! I don't even got skills, please! I plead not guilty!"

"Ha...!" A laugh from the prosecution.
"You and your crew know exactly what y'all've been doin'!
Your songs are ruthless, witnesses saw you do it,
Mr. Wrong'll not be refutin' the evidence I got to prove it."

Defense says, "I bet it's baseless conjecture.
Tuesday been wack since he started in grade eleven.
Ever heard his tracks? He ain't sayin' nothin'.
Not a single word about how he sprayed a gun clip."

The jury's whispering. Judge grips the gavel-
SLAM! "Order in the court! Let's see how this thing unravels...
Mr. Karma, you may call your first witness."

"Thank you very much, your honor. Let us begin then."

The courtroom's quiet, but it gets loud
in the mind that's wondering what exactly went down:
The truth... only thing we came for.
Facts come together to make sure it takes form,
So we listen close. Every minute, no, every tick that goes,
'cause those who miss it be actin' as if they didn't know
unlike the man swearin' oath as he gets into his seat.

"Mr. Witness, spit your testimony, please."

"Ayo, I heard the man rap. It was murder, stand back when he hold the mic,
'cause he straight blowin' like dynamite!
Tougher than Final Fight. Through the streets wreckless,
spittin' flows that's the closest to musical perfection,
forget it!
It's impossible to match how he write a song.
Ain't a single one of these rappers goin' quite as hard-"

"Hold it! I heard he choked and lost two battles."

"Yeah, but his flow's smooth like melody on the piano!"

"Yeah, um... no further questions, Your Honor."

Del Close:

"Cool" means something all by itself, you know, but...but it's like trying to define hip. You know he'll- hip in general, or righteousness, you know? You can give a hundred examples of what it isn't, but, man, you'll have a hell of a time saying what it is.

Detective Tuesday:

"Now, for those that still need to be convinced,
this is from the crime scene, OC ReMix.
It's irrefutable, solid, conclusive, gruesome.
Tuesday, why'd you have to do it? Why?"

Suddenly, he stands forth,
different mood in his eyes, he seems to have transformed.

"The DJ was lettin' tracks spin like 'that's sick,'

I made that crap backflip in a casket!
Bastards was tryna play me talkin' 'bout I'm the wackest,
and how I oughta care 'bout what they think is happ'nin'.
Now as for the crime? I ain't plan it or practice,
though it wasn't an accident. My ears just told my brain: "Yo, that's it.
I'm glad they found the tape to back it, I'll take this moment to admit, I'm great at rappin'."

A savage that broke free from the cage he was trapped in.
As they dragged him away, all that was heard was his laughin'.

GUILTY.