[Intro] (*Coughing*) (Yeah... Haa!) Turn the vocals up a little bit. Right there. Listen… we takin’ a trip, son. Rewind the cassette. Check it. [Verse 1] I bring the ruckus to the rookies, leave ‘em cookie crumbs I’m from the era of the snare and the filthy drums Before the streams and the memes and the suno rap We had the hoodies low, shivering, strictly boom-bap (Strictly!) Yo, like the Ghost Rider, cypher sniper, hyper-active Radioactive, throw a tape inside the dash and smash it Back when the Timbs had the scuffs and the bubble coats We wrote the scripture on the pavement, cut the beats via throats (Suuuuu!) Beat-boxing, street-watching, clocking math Johnny Blaze lighting up the dark and dangerous path No Autotune, just a platoon of goons in the stairwell Living in a lyrical, hysterical, hip-hop hell We kept it raw like the sushi pass the Loosie Now everybody soft walking round looking fruity I miss the grit, miss the grime, miss the basement stench When the MVP was coming off the Shaolin bench! (Wu-Tang!) [Chorus - Turntablism] It’s that 9-0 flow, let the rhythm go Ain't nothing like the vintage, let the young boys know We cracked the concrete, stomp the yard, raise the noise Separate the grown men from the little boys Yeah, nothing touch the Golden Age, turn the page Beast coming out the cage! (woo ha!) (woo ha!) [Verse 2] Check the dialect, I disconnect the internet And give ‘em straight bio-hazard, are you finished yet? (Is you done?) I’m from the school of Hard Knocks and the analog Chopping samples on the SP, walking through the fog Now they mumbling, fumbling, tripping over words I’m flying high with the Killa Bees, flipping birds (Brrrrap!) Used to hit the Tunnel, Funkmaster Flex drop a bomb Before the game turned combs, we was Vietnam! Sharp as a dart, tearing the chart, pure art Sticking a dagger right inside the culture’s heart (Pow!) I need 2Pac, Mobb Deep, Nas, that Biggie Smalls Writing rhymes on the back of the bathroom stalls Forget the Likes and the Views, pay your heavy dues Or get blown up by my rhymes when I light the fuse Hot Nikkels! I’m nostalgic for the static When the flow was automatic and the love was fanatic! (What? What?) [Chorus - Turntablism] It’s that 9-0 flow, let the rhythm go Ain't nothing like the vintage, let the young boys know We cracked the concrete, stomp the yard, raise the noise Separate the grown men from the little boys Yeah, nothing touch the Golden Age, turn the page Beast coming out the cage! (woo-ha!) (woo-ha!) [Verse 3] Ay, hold up, salute the Empresses that held the throne Ladies First, Latifah made the U.N.I.T.Y. known MC Lyte cold rock the party, Lyte as a Rock Salt-N-Pepa push it real good around the block (Spinderella!) Lauryn Hill, L-Boogie, vocals on fire Killing me softly while the stakes get higher Lil' Kim, Hard Core, Queen Bee in the mink Foxy with the Ill Na Na, and the Ghetto Twiinz Da Brat, Missy Elliott, Supa Dupa Fly Left Eye, TLC, chasing waterfalls in the sky (R.I.P.) Rah Digga, Lady of Rage with the Afro Puffs Real women, real bars, no powder puffs! (Rough and tough!) Can't forget the Queen of Soul, the one Mary J. She won the Grammy, paved the way, what else can I say? Bahamadia with the silk, Eve with the pit Monie Love in the middle dropping heavy hits Gangsta Boo, Three 6, yeah she kept it hood Mia X, No Limit soldiers standing good Respect the goddess, the womb of the creation The true foundations of the hip-hop nation! (Word!) [Outro] Yeah. Straight like that. 1994 style. 95, 96… (Forever) We still here. Rewind that tape.
