C-Rayz Walz - '86 lyrics

[Intro: C-Rayz Walz] Hip hop [Hook: C-Rayz Walz and (Sample from [?])] (x2) ("'Bout to tear it up) '86, '86, '86 [Verse 1: C-Rayz Walz] Yo, yo, want C-notes and deep throats I'm from the era of sheep coats Manila envelopes and weed smoke Block parties in 22. Graffiti artists like Tru Two and Jewel—just to name a few for you Now or Laters and son dudes. You hear, son? Fair ones—before n***as learned gun fu Yeah, Run D.M.C.s were original Now we got pretty thugs and soft criminals I remember hip hop not dominated by visual Your rap was critical or the crowd got rid of you (Boooo!) Now it's pseudo-pitiful. Plus punks be 'fessin Selling records, talk about what they dressed in I'm saying that's a part of it (What?) but not the start of it The livest show used to be in your apartment, kid Hip hop! Started out in the dark Now it's mainly focused to where the fly cars is parked But it's still in my, still in my heart [Hook: C-Rayz Walz and (Sample from [?])] '86, '86, '86 ("'Bout to tear it up) '86, '86, '86 ("'Bout to tear it up) [Verse 2: C-Rayz Walz] Bizzy B told y'all. Now I'mma Kurtis Blow y'all out the art So fresh, you jet from perfected darts Mic projection sharp. Your heart pump Kool-Aid You whack. What?!? Bring the noise! I got crazy backup Pow-Wow was my neighbor, Rasheen had flavor I was pumping Sugarhill on my sister's record player Window wide-open. "The Message" was blasting UTFO was next, then Inspector Gadget Had to be near ba*tards to see mean shots Never was a k**er—couldn't make it to my 13 box 5 cent refund brung change for video games Now I see the youth—the scenario changed It used to be the truth—only rappers had big change We argued "Who was nicer? Rakim, KRS, or Kane?" I'm having "Nightmares." I had to speak to Dana Dane Told him I remember the days and how they make me wanna say Wanna say, wanna say [Hook: C-Rayz Walz and (Sample from [?])] '86, '86, '86 ("'Bout to tear it up) '86, '86, '86 ("'Bout to tear it up) [Verse 3: C-Rayz Walz] I was body popping, rocking, shocking, plotting to splash in cla** Girls said I looked like Lakim Shabazz My homegirl Roxy was Manhattan's daughter So slick, she bought a bag of chips with a Latin Quarter Word to Big Bird (Heard?) and the Izod gator Let's take it Back to the Future without the flux capacitators No backsees, no penny tax for clones On my tracks, I would die over Spit like Ramon You wack and get no dap for your rap Shot through the bottom of your feet—now that's my soul clap So go gold or go plat', but don't go back Unless you down by law cause you might get slapped and jacked Smash your turntables with a hammer (One, two) Now. How's that for breakbeats? Knowledge my grammar At the rally with my Ballies when it's time to show and prove On some old school sh** like make me, make me move What?