| Yo, yo
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| I came up in the 90's, mixtapes I made a lot
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| I must’ve been 12, when 36' tape was dropped
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| One of the illest tapes I copt, yeah I said tape
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| Rewind was flippin' over, fast forward and press play
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| Before these kids had iPhones
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| We used to skateboard to the pay phone and get a ride home
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| Wherever I May Roam was the new Metallica song
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| And Cyprus Hill’s single had us packing the bong
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| These faggots were wrong when they said it was a fad
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| When I think back to that I keep remembering my dad
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| Yelling 'turn it down', I put on Rage’s first LP
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| Like 'fuck you I won’t do what you tell me'
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| The only time I felt free, drinkin', puffin' Phillies
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| No diseases, you were lucky if you sucked some titties
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| A hundred fifty dollars would last you a lifetime
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| Cause cigarettes were two bucks, and we didn’t fuck with white lines
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| It was great times, dope beats and great rhymes
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| Is it me or did Tribe have the illest base lines
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| In the summertime, drive with flip flops and socks on
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| In the brown Dodson like the one in the Nas song |
| Smoking 'til the pot’s gone, then copt another nick
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| Yo Cracka Philly, I could really use another hit
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| Five was good for the day as far as gas goes
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| My ass knows from the metal plate of my Vasgos ←-(?)
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| Assholes writing graph and lighting shit on fire
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| Arguing if Ol' Dirty ever fucked Mariah
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| Uninspired, you’d get jumped if you start beef
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| You know, 420 codes on the smart beep
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| If they wasn’t our peeps, then they got robbed blind
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| Throw my crew up with shoe polish on the stop sign
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| I’m from a time where kickin' rhymes was fun
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| I made this beat on an insonic from '91
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| Okay, yo
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| Nothing like the way that Method Man used to rock that beat
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| My favorite games were Golden Eye and Mortal Combat 3
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| And all my pot was free, kept an ounce in my backpack
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| Next to the paint markers, car horns, and fat caps
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| Throw up a bubble beast, like fuck police
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| Before iPods my boombox used to bump the beats
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| Kickin' freestyles before I wrote 16's
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| Drug dealers Bush Civics with chrome 15's
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| After OJ, but before the Clinton scandal |
| We drank OE 64 oz’s with the handle
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| Bacardi burned like the candles and I smoke Camel lights
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| The hottest chicks was Cindy Crawford and Vanna White
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| And when you had a fight, the dude that lost left
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| And the next day in school you were cooler with more respect
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| More or less I was cooler than a switch blade
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| A grown man who’d been rapper since the sixth grade |