Way back in the day before the age of gold chains and fat fades

When Zulu Nation was still called the Black Spades

A fetus was formed. A genius was born

Adidas was worn. And pieces of your speakers was torn

I used to fiend for mics like and addict for rocks

The baddest on blocks who'd rock till the static would stop

Herbs beating me with words was absurd

Like traffic cops who cocked semi-automatic Glocks to pop

Stetsosonic was hot. Kwame was not

I wore out the shell tops that copped when Planet Rock dropped

From Ultramag MC's to JB to BDP and KMD I learned to MC

Crumple it up, scratch it out, think it over

Spit it over and over the instrumental to The Bridge Is Over

I was funky, fresh dressed to impress

Got it made with the words that I manifest

You'll never dismantle the best. Give your mandibles a rest

I eat mics I bless like a cannibal with flesh

Still number one like It's KRS

With my whole name written across my chest

And it goes, A for accurate. P for poetry

A for the automatic respect you're showin me

T for the tight lyrics and H cuz shit is hot

And last but not least Y....why not



(hook x4)

With the kicks, snares, kicks and hi hats

Still in the trade of that ol' boom bap



Let's meet up in the Bronx with Cyrus for a meeting

Before he started speaking, they blasted him leaving him bleeding

And everybody running, searching for escape

Twenty years later I'm making moves trying to push a demo tape

And it's relative. This hip hop scene is too negative

Amped up and wild, take a sedative







Back in the past when Grandmaster Flash started to scratch,

They perfected the art of the raps

Taking a part of the wax, make it the heart of the track

Now it