| I love you so. |
| never gonna let you go baby
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| I love you so. |
| never gonna let you go baby
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| Icewater. |
| (yeah dedication to my niggas, I love y’all)
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| I remember back when, a nigga first started rapping
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| Wu-Tang was the main attraction
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| Rae and Ghost was the illest team
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| Deck did his thing on C.R.E.A.M
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| Meth made you wanna smoke weed
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| Dirt and Uey, spit with SWV
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| I used to rock Cuban Linx and go and double my cheese
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| Duckin' the D’s, RZA was the Prince Rakeem
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| So peace to the whole Clan and thanks for everything
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| Yo, it’s hip hop/rap, let’s take it back, 1986
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| When MC Shan, Marley Marl, niggas rocked the bridge
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| I watched video hot tracks on T. V
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| Kool Moe Dee, Big Daddy Kane, down to Biz Markie
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| Remember UTFO and The Real Roxanne?
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| «Eric B. For President» was a classic jam
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| KRS repped the Bronx, Boogie Down, rap battles threw down
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| From the roof top to Polo Grounds
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| I had the big boom box, thumping Scott LaRock
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| Hip hop was hot, had shorties doing the wop
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| And my niggas used to break dance to Planet Rock
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| From doing the pop, spinning on the cardboard box
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| Aiyo, it seems it’s all good, but the block is mean
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| It’s like, hip hop, showed me how to rock my jeans
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| If it wasn’t for this rap game, where would I be?
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| Gunned down, dead in the streets, or locked in the beast
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| Yo, when Big died, that’s the day the world cried
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| Peace to Pac and Pun, Aaliyah, we ride
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| Yo, I wanna take this rap game back to the beginning
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| Where Run-DMC and Jam Master Jay was spinning
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| Yo, it wasn’t easy, niggas had a harder way
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| Doc The Roc, he spinning on Harbor’s day
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| It’s like, hip hop, showed me how to live my life
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| My name’s Jason, but hip hop named me Lite
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| Straight money, get a live lad, young seed, color me bad
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| My wallabees red, the lobby, we would grab niggas
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| Selling mad smoke with caves on, brushin' my waves
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| My highway ninjas, fly the sensation
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| Black trenchers, e gooses, mad looses, come in the booth
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| Doug E. Fresh and 'em, Rick and them suits
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| The raw lotto years, switch up the emblem, more color bottles
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| Gold on a nigga neck, slidin' around cop Gallo
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| What? |
| Playin' Union Square, chillin' with Ewings who care
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| My first day, picture me scared
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| I been to high lite, and anarchy, can’t rob me, all in the train
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| The A, baby boy, blowin' on yard weed
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| R.C. |
| Tone, K-Fin, J-Gosh
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| The nigga Rosh, Buddha Rob, Black Chavy and Marsh
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| Move on, I shout yesterday’s dons, God love and respect
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| I hope your dreams come true, word is bond
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| When niggas used to be in cyphers I was sittin in the back
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| Never said nothin, I just used to listen to rap
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| Wu was still tryin to get on the map
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| I was a youngin', when I realized that I had a mission in rap
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| So I grabbed my pen and my pad, gave it everything that I had
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| I swear I used to sit in the lab
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| And write all night, niggas used to make me hype
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| Freestylin in the mirror with a brush as my mic
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| This is my music, it made me, taught me, raised me
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| Held me down, 24/7, when I need it from it it gave me
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| Put me on to the latest gear, put a durag on my hair
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| Throwback or baseball hat, Air Force One’s, an Avirex triple five vex' on my
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| back
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| This is now but I still remember way back when
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| When we used to rock Puma’s, Gazelles and back spin
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| Before 106 & Park, they used to throw jams in the park
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| Cheeba got sparked after dark, twisted in bamboo paper
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| That was when that battle between KRS-One and MC Shan was major
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| Kane was raw, what Rakim said on beat was never said before
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| The streets was hot, on every ghetto on every block
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| And every radio you walked by was blastin off that real hip hop |