Bambu - Old Man Raps lyrics
[Bambu - Old Man Raps lyrics]
I'm too old to be geeking
Off a shot of Patron
Fist fighting in the club over
A stare ain't grown i put food in the fridge
Put clothes on my kid
Do the dishes, pay taxes
Mop the floor in my crib
(Oh wait a minute man) i mean duplex floor
I'm too grown to be calling it a crib no more
No future in a gang slanging cane is through
And I lost real good friends
Behind the 90s shootings
I remember rap battles over beats on improv
Now kids kick writtens when they
Spitting no beat on
But don't get the man wrong
I log on the grind time and rewind
Like catch another Dumbfounded punchline
And most kids chalk it up
To me being old school
But trace it back a decade
Graduated from no school
Experience taught Bam from opening bell
I survived it by myself old man rap for real
I'm just a grumpy old man haha
No rims on the car, no chain on my neck
You popping bottles in the club
I'm half asleep in my bed
No designs on my head when I begin sentences
It's "Remember when?"
Every time I'm out with my friends
Throwback jersey?
I remember when they played
When only one area code could cover all of LA
From that 213
I still say "dope" when I speak
Old enough to know it's wrong
To put out dope in the street
Seen brothers I grew up with
Who didn't grow up
And got stuck sniffing paint
Smoking crack in they lungs
Or on the end of a gun
Kids I would hang with at lunch
Is doing numbers in the doubles
In the box locked up
They shot Ralph in the gut
But Wayne ain't have the same luck
One lived, one gone
Rest in peace Wayne Vaughn
Shawn Cole tried to rob an
Undercover with a toy
And took a couple in the chest
I think you getting the point right
Old man rap shaking my head at these kids
But, I forget that I was them
And did the shit that they did
Too old to be out at funerals of my peers
Who catch bullets in the hood
Man, we up in them years i'm dead serious
Bread serious in my life
Don't need to spend it on a chain
Shiny gold ain't my type i'm a pioneer
Of all these Filipinos you hear
Got a boost when the
Native Guns' music appeared
And not to big up my head
But yo I know what I'm worth
One of the best to ever do it
In a Po' club shirt
From the block to a school to a juvenile hall
To a marine core base
Standing, watching the wall
To working day job pay
To dropping exact Change
From realizing that my work and rap
Deserve to get paid
Been to Europe, Japan, the Philippines
And beyond no regrets
Pour a 40 in my name when I'm gone
Peace, I'm almost on my way out paper Cuts
And then we gonna move on to the
Next one and the last one
My old ass needs to sit down
One more album that's it post up with my son
My son and his Mom
Enjoy the rest of my life man
I had a good run though
I appreciate every single one of y'all
Fat Gums, Bambu, DJ Phatrick lA stand up
Off a shot of Patron
Fist fighting in the club over
A stare ain't grown i put food in the fridge
Put clothes on my kid
Do the dishes, pay taxes
Mop the floor in my crib
(Oh wait a minute man) i mean duplex floor
I'm too grown to be calling it a crib no more
No future in a gang slanging cane is through
And I lost real good friends
Behind the 90s shootings
I remember rap battles over beats on improv
Now kids kick writtens when they
Spitting no beat on
But don't get the man wrong
I log on the grind time and rewind
Like catch another Dumbfounded punchline
And most kids chalk it up
To me being old school
But trace it back a decade
Graduated from no school
Experience taught Bam from opening bell
I survived it by myself old man rap for real
I'm just a grumpy old man haha
No rims on the car, no chain on my neck
You popping bottles in the club
I'm half asleep in my bed
No designs on my head when I begin sentences
It's "Remember when?"
Every time I'm out with my friends
Throwback jersey?
I remember when they played
When only one area code could cover all of LA
From that 213
I still say "dope" when I speak
Old enough to know it's wrong
To put out dope in the street
Seen brothers I grew up with
Who didn't grow up
And got stuck sniffing paint
Smoking crack in they lungs
Or on the end of a gun
Kids I would hang with at lunch
Is doing numbers in the doubles
In the box locked up
They shot Ralph in the gut
But Wayne ain't have the same luck
One lived, one gone
Rest in peace Wayne Vaughn
Shawn Cole tried to rob an
Undercover with a toy
And took a couple in the chest
I think you getting the point right
Old man rap shaking my head at these kids
But, I forget that I was them
And did the shit that they did
Too old to be out at funerals of my peers
Who catch bullets in the hood
Man, we up in them years i'm dead serious
Bread serious in my life
Don't need to spend it on a chain
Shiny gold ain't my type i'm a pioneer
Of all these Filipinos you hear
Got a boost when the
Native Guns' music appeared
And not to big up my head
But yo I know what I'm worth
One of the best to ever do it
In a Po' club shirt
From the block to a school to a juvenile hall
To a marine core base
Standing, watching the wall
To working day job pay
To dropping exact Change
From realizing that my work and rap
Deserve to get paid
Been to Europe, Japan, the Philippines
And beyond no regrets
Pour a 40 in my name when I'm gone
Peace, I'm almost on my way out paper Cuts
And then we gonna move on to the
Next one and the last one
My old ass needs to sit down
One more album that's it post up with my son
My son and his Mom
Enjoy the rest of my life man
I had a good run though
I appreciate every single one of y'all
Fat Gums, Bambu, DJ Phatrick lA stand up