歌词
[Verse]
Starter jackets, baggy jeans, feelin’ raw,
Chain hangin’ heavy and the sneakers fresh from the drawer.
Trenches of the boroughs, from LA to NYC,
Old school fight, where the rich flavors meet.
Bomber jackets zipped up, Tims hit the street,
Grittin’ on the grind, syndicate, elite.
Boom bap snare, whole carats in the stare,
Chrome spokes, dookie ropes, legacy to bear.
[Verse 2]
Jazz sax in the back, beats pure dope,
Check the technique, mental woke, real hope.
Poetic with the static, pushin’ through the struggle,
Bricks laid, cards shuffled, in the urban jungle.
Conscious minds climb, gangsta rhythms grind,
Dilated pupil, in the shadows gon’ shine.
Basements packed tight, lyrical ignition,
Battles fought rhythmic, against the opp’ position.
[Chorus]
90s steez, East meets West,
Coast to coast flow, we do it the best.
High tops and flannel, Afrocentric heart,
Golden era boomin', top of the chart.
Bangin’ beats, wisdom's feast,
From Compton to Queensbridge, unity released.
[Verse 3]
Gold grills, illest swill, never counterfeit,
Spinnin’ stories on the vinyl, infinite wit.
Hydraulic low riders, with tha chrome shine,
Tales in the cipher, chemically-inclined.
Scheming plots on blocks, where the hustle never pauses,
Livin’ large, still we battle the causes.
Sharp cuts, vinyl mix, DJ's got the scratch,
Graffiti tags peelin’ back truths that match.
[Bridge]
Mixin’ jazz loops, life in the sample,
Mic control’s a gamble, temple to the temple.
Urban poet’s canvas, rhythmic paint to the grind,
Kick snares hit my soul, all intertwined.
Cross color love, old school daze,
Synaptic joints blaze, in this golden age.
[Chorus]
90s steez, East meets West,
Coast to coast flow, we do it the best.
High tops and flannel, Afrocentric heart,
Golden era boomin', top of the chart.
Bangin’ beats, wisdom's feast,
From Compton to Queensbridge, unity
