Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song In Tha Park, artist - Ghostface Killah. Date of issue: 31.12.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
In Tha Park |
| Yeah, niggas don’t know about Fatback |
| With the different color records they had back in the days |
| You know what I mean, the belt-driven turntables |
| With Technics joints (with the slipmats!) |
| Put nickels on the needles so the motherfucking record won’t jump |
| The needle won’t skip and shit |
| Getting juice from the fucking light poles |
| Shout out to the Bronx, nigga! |
| Ay yo, this shit go way back like a Uni marker, kid |
| Bombing the D train and hit the Bronx up |
| Krylon bandits attack; |
| Planet Rock, Bambaataa |
| Peace to Pylon discovering rap |
| And the DJ that made the first scratch |
| Paved the way for Flex, Mister Cee, 'nuff of them cats |
| See, this rap shit came at a time that was accurate |
| Twenty-something years later, I mastered it |
| Seen light poles get used for power |
| I was a little nigga |
| Couldn’t stay out late — I was sour |
| So I sat by the window, heard the DJ cut |
| Impeach the Pres, Apache, and just begun |
| Otis Redding — slam! |
| The music stopped |
| Guess the system blew out one of his amps |
| It’d take a little while, then it come back on |
| Somebody stepped on the wire and shit, that’s all |
| Now everybody’s back in the groove, echo chamber |
| «Check one two, one two" — that’s my favorite |
| Strobe lights is live, Pink Champale |
| Little pink joints being lit up on the side |
| Couple niggas had two fives |
| Other than that, cleared a circle in the park and shoot 5 |
| Girls wore they Lees and jellies |
| Jordache and Lees, TF Lords fit the fellys |
| Sams and Kangol buckets, BVD’s |
| Go to Sergio’s like, fuck it |
| Seen the stamp on that Crazy Eddie |
| niggas coming back from the Funhouse dusted |
| Throwing bubbles on the wall |
| We must remind you |
| Where this rap come from |
| Yes my brother, my sister |
| It’s our duty, we must remind you |
| Hip hop was set out in the park |
| We used to do it out in the dark |
| Yo, it all started at the After Midnight Philly, but walk with me |
| Mad niggas coming down from New York City |
| Prolly hit the skating rink USA |
| Banging Schoolly, «Gangster Boogie"and «PSK» |
| I remember shells, Gazelles, top tens, and lottos |
| Mega design, reefer smoke, Coqui nine bottles |
| Entire wore velours, call the boys with the Lucci wore |
| 84's from Atlantic City Coogi store |
| Linoleum break dancing, Rust-Oleum cans |
| I put the writing on the wall signed, «Truly yours» |
| Philly smashed '87 Music Seminar |
| Out on the battlefield like Pat Benatar |
| Hit the borough with Krown Rulers out of Camden |
| People Patty Duke-ing in the party, all cramped in |
| Around the time Flav started cold lamping |
| «Rebel Without a Pause"was the street anthem |
| Old Memorex cassette, tape collections |
| Bright spotlights on all the fights at the Spectrum |
| When the Fresh Fest come, leather bombers and sheepskins |
| Brothers would bust they guns to get one |
| MC Breeze, Disco C, Jazzy Jeff |
| Cash Money and Miz and Lady B |
| Everybody banging «Sucker MC’s"in '83 |
| I was South Philly like St. Charles and Crazy D |
| Them wild North Side Puerto Ricans would snuff you |
| Twenty deep in a Ford Escort, pumping the Tuff Crew |
| I used to follow my cousin, he was a buck too |
| «Y'all don’t like how I’m living, well, fuck you!» |
| I been a G since a little kid |
| Sticking my head up into somebody’s dollar party, getting into shit |
| And late nights, shoulda been in bed |
| Instead, I was running 'round with them downtown lemonheads |
| A little man, hanging where them grown women is |
| Under thirteen, seeing real strong images |
| And that’s the reason for my real rap penmanship |
| That’s where I started it, and that’s where I’m a finish it |