| Now I’m back around the old school that raised me
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| Now I’m back around the old school that raised me
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| Now I’m, now I’m back around the old school that raised me
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| Now I’m back around the old school that raised me
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| Now I’m back around the old school that raised me (back around the old school)
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| Now I’m back around the old school that raised me
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| Now I’m, now I’m back around the old school that raised me (back around the old
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| school) now I’m back around the old school that raised me (back)
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| Verse One
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| Now I’m back around the old school that raised me it’s crazy
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| 3 feet high and rising with daisy’s
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| Caps to the back, fresh mesh, fresh to death
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| Best dressed so don’t step on my sneakers
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| Spit a rhyme I’ll leave you speechless
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| Back to the struggle
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| When Def Jam had Russell in the hustle
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| And Break-dance 1 had the muscles from Brussels
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| Doing handclaps in black Spandex
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| Back when Smokey was a bandit
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| I’m guarding the mic, my man’s next
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| Spit it like Special Ed, Biz Mark and KRS
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| Or the Fresh Prince and Jazz Jeff
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| Back when we used to worry bout' the year 2000
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| Millennium bugs now the ghetto got millennium thugs
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| And hip-hop evolved and young bloods feel old
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| Platinum replaced gold, competition’s fierce
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| And vinyl stores are scarce it’s a ghost town
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| It’s like the Sheriff got scared and fle’ed the showdown
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| And Berry Gordy quit Motown, where’s Stevie Wonder?
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| Last I heard he did a track with Busta
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| Without the old school there’s no school
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| Now I’m back around it feels so cool
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| Verse Two
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| Now I’m back around the old school, young with no front teeth
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| Listening to Kool Keith and Stetsasonic
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| Before De La did Bionix, before Dre did The Chronic
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| The ladies wore door knocker earrings and bandanas
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| And young kids believed in Santa
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| And hip-hop was beats, rhymes, pops and locks
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| Where Rakim made em' clap while Eric would cut
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| And the term Sucker MC’s was for Sucker MC’s
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| And these synthesized beats on keys were not born
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| And Pete Rock made a hook using only a horn
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| I reminisce and think about the wonderful bliss
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| When ice was only for drinks and was never for wrists
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| And selling out was for them punks, it was never for this
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| We maintained, when adversity came we changed lanes
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| Our words had the power to sway and change brains
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| And free our own people from these shackles and chains
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| That imprison the youth and imprison the truth
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| So I’mma act like a prisoner when I’m in the booth
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| And hold bars get it? |
| I’m no fool, there’s no rules
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| There’s no clues paid my dues when reppin' the old school
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| Verse Three
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| Now I’m back around the old school before Mafia names
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| Where kids took a can sprayed graffiti on trains
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| It was tagging, MC’ing was the art of bragging
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| Before rumours of gay rappers and Armageddon
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| And every rap record was a lesson schooling me
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| Was the likes of Young MC and Schooly D
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| Catch my drift? |
| And double vinyl records didn’t exist
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| Now they old news demoted to old tunes
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| But them plastics are considered classics
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| Some are worth paper do the mathematics
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| Yo, I let my tape rock till my tape pop
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| When my tape got stuck I was like man what
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| Pushing paper in the top holes my blanks ran out
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| Every week I was taping what was hot on the street
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| Pressing pause when the DJ was beginning to speak
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| Hoping that the track would leave a little loop of the beat
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| And I love them days, them days were priceless
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| One of the nicest times in my life
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| When I think back they still amaze me it’s crazy
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| Cos now I’m back around the old school that raised me |