Lyrics
Bring back the boom bap, the beats that inspire
Rhymes that had weight, true facts we admire
Tales from the streets that would preach to the choir
90's sound profound, time to rewire
East Coast flow, where the essence arose
Lyricism reigned and the culture it chose
Baggy jeans, Timbs, and the freshest of clothes
Graff on the trains, DJ scratches on those
Realness in every bar, truth on the vinyl
Seeking something deeper than cash or a title
Reflecting on the days when the mic meant respect
Back then you had a message, not just cashing a check
When every lyric was a lifeline, the truth in the text
Now everybody's mumbling, not caring what's next
Where did the storytellers go, the beat breakers, the roots
Now it's all about the flash, the cash, the designer boots
Miss the battles on the corner, the cyphers in parks
Not these empty auto-tunes that miss the lyrical marks
We need the Renaissance of rhythm, the return of the craft
Where every line's a heavy hitter, not a throwaway laugh
Let's resurrect the culture, the art of the wordplay
Rhyme books filled with wisdom, not just hearsay
Turntables spinning, creating new paths
Not these hollow beats, we need that raw boom bap
Where's the crowd that understands the power of the prose
Not swayed by gold chains or the flash of bankrolls
I long for the era of the intellectual spitter
When every rapper was a poet, a philosopher, a winner
Bring back the cipher, restore the essence
When rap was an art, not a fleeting presence
We crave the art, the stories, the legends untold
Not this shallow bling rap that's trite and it's old
Yearning for the giants on whose shoulders we stood
Dropping knowledge over beats in every neighborhood
A call back to the time when skill was a must
When verses had power and a mic was trust
We were building empires with the words we'd spit
Now it's all about the likes, the clicks, the quick hit
Bring back the rawness, the poetry of the street
The soundtracks of life that made you move your feet
Nostalgia in my headphones, playin' tracks of the greats
Thinking 'bout lyrical skills, not just fortune and fates
We didn't flow for the fame, we were telling our stories
Life etched in each verse, the pain and the glories
Mixtapes pumped with the sound of the boom and the bap
Words that would hit you harder than a thunderclap
Back when emcees were your street's philosophers
Spittin' rhymes packed tighter than a room full of scholars
In the era of legends, where the mixtape was king
Our verses were scriptures, teachings they'd bring
