Those Were the Days GZA
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Those Were the Days" от GZA. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.
[Verse 1: Lyrxo]
Those were the days, back in Junior High
For an 8th grader, my style was kinda fly
And just to prove I was an MC Pro
I often sponsored a classroom show
And the hype part of my imagination
Was making my homeroom a hip-hop station
Minutes before the late bell would ring
I would greet the audience and then I'll swing
A lyric or two as the students barked
(woof, woof, woof) 'cause my rhymes had sparked
Off something causing the class to mingle
To a rhythm which is now a 12" single
Letting off many styles of hip-hop
Holding the mic that I made in woodshop
Forget gold, my key chain was a cable
Two math textbooks were turntables
And for a mixer, something much cooler
A penny being cross-faded on a ruler
Measuring dope beats that were flexed
From hands that played a drum roll on a desk
From my homegirl, her name, fly as Emory
(peck sound) sweet memory
I remember sitting in my art class
Drawing up lyrics kind of fast
The outcome, a masterpiece
Live shows with hyped up rhymes released
As if lyrics were flowing from the heavens above
I'll grab a mic and provoke a push to a shove
From boys and girls who broke necks to see
The lyrical G.O.D
Those were the days, back in Junior High
For an 8th grader, my style was kinda fly
And just to prove I was an MC Pro
I often sponsored a classroom show
And the hype part of my imagination
Was making my homeroom a hip-hop station
Minutes before the late bell would ring
I would greet the audience and then I'll swing
A lyric or two as the students barked
(woof, woof, woof) 'cause my rhymes had sparked
Off something causing the class to mingle
To a rhythm which is now a 12" single
Letting off many styles of hip-hop
Holding the mic that I made in woodshop
Forget gold, my key chain was a cable
Two math textbooks were turntables
And for a mixer, something much cooler
A penny being cross-faded on a ruler
Measuring dope beats that were flexed
From hands that played a drum roll on a desk
From my homegirl, her name, fly as Emory
(peck sound) sweet memory
I remember sitting in my art class
Drawing up lyrics kind of fast
The outcome, a masterpiece
Live shows with hyped up rhymes released
As if lyrics were flowing from the heavens above
I'll grab a mic and provoke a push to a shove
From boys and girls who broke necks to see
The lyrical G.O.D
Комментарии (0)
Минимальная длина комментария — 50 символов.
Информация
Мы рекомендуем вам зарегистрироваться или авторизоваться, чтобы оставлять комментарии и использовать все функции сайта.
Комментариев пока нет. Вы можете быть первым!