Jon Connor - 1995 lyrics

Ft. Jon Connor [Maffew Ragazino] Every time he go, he go in like he on Stretch & Bobbito Circa 93' flow This rap sh** is but a free throw, well ease how I paint portraits, no easel The word play so lethal as cold as Andre with a Kanye ego I'm the antidote, even your mama knows But common sense ain't common amongst common folks Food for thought, main entrée But they want microwaveable sh** with paper plates No cosign, no payola, all that sh** is fake luv, Angel Lola And Shawty is cute, I ain't trying to diss I mean she give me the p**y I prolly hit Frankie Cutla** wasn't lying about the politics It's all bullsh**, vote republican Donkey or elephant, I'll tighten my belt before I sell out for my relevance And fame and money and all those other perks that come with it That's why still do this sh** like it's 1 9 9 5 And I still do this sh** like it's 1 9 9 5 And I still do this sh** like it's 1 9 9 5 And I still do this sh** like it's 1 9 9 5, right [Maffew Ragazino] What would have happened if Aaliyah would have flew alone? Or if Makavelli (Machiavelli) really truly had a clone? Or if Big Poppa would have stayed his a** at home? How far could that coast rivalry really gone? Hypnotize Remix with 2pac on it Pardon my idle mind, I know I'm really zoning Whenever you in Rome, they say do as the the Romans But the industries roam and I'm doing my own sh** Stepping on toes along the way, like f** it I meant it You ain't gotta pardon me, like I'm Forte Seekin refuge, we want our reparations but they refuse Over your head ain't it, I'm just putting a little paint where it ain't at Walking the plank damn it with the waters that are sharks infested I stand the test of time every single time that I'm tested An empty bottle of cognac with a message, inside of it Some of ya will get it, but it's obvious that a lot of ya'll prolly won't And I still do this sh** like it's 1 9 9 5 And I still do this sh** like it's 1 9 9 5 And I still do this sh** like it's 1 9 9 5, right [Jon Connor] It's Jon Connor, yo This sh** is gorgeous I k** it I'm morbid The flow is wet, I spit it, it's pouring You n***as absorb it the flow is dope As cuban imported I'm coke when recording Yes this is straight raw, and you spitting that Norbit Whether they, shoot it or snort it I send they brain into orbit How could a flow this sick be just the doctor ordered Look, before I sell out, I bail out and Dave Chapelle out In Africa with Naydee and Seedie speakin swahili And if it's 1995 then let me get it back, and rip it spit Like 2 Pac was gon diss me if this sh** was whack Like I'm a bad boy like Martin, Willie and Biggie and Diddy in the back Mariah on the hook in a Yankee fitted hat Where my n***as at? Fake n***as better play dead Ain't Peter Parker but I run sh** like I had 8 legs, I'm Forrest Gump-in you Lieutenant Dan and you got fake legs, and look They can't keep up cause they feet stuck, put your teeth up when When I beast up, n***a, what, what, what, what And I still do this sh** like it's 1 9 9 5, right