Ghostface Killah, Black Thought - In tha Park lyrics

One, two
Yeah, niggas don't know about Fatback
With the different color records they
Had back in the days you know what I mean?
The belt-driven turntables
The Technic joints (With the slipmats)
Put nickels on the needles so
The motherfuckin' record won't jump
The needle won't skip and shit
Gettin' juice from the fuckin' light poles
Shout out to the Bronx, nigga!

Aye, yo, this shit go way
Back like a Uni marker, kid
Bombing the D train and hit the Bronx up
Krylon bandit's attack, Planet Rock
Bambaataa peace to Pelan discovering rap
And the DJ that made the first scratch
Paved the way for Flex, Mister Cee
'nuff of them cats
See, this rap shit came at
A time that was accurate
Twenty-something years later, I mastered it
Seen light poles get used for power
I was a little nigga
Couldn't stay out late, I was sour
So I sat by the window, heard the DJ cut
"Impeach the Pres", "Apache"
And "Just Begun" otis Redding, "Tramp"
The music stopped
Guess the system blew out one of his amps
It'd take a little while
Then it come back on
Somebody stepped on the wire and shit
That's all
Now everybody's back in the groove
Echo chamber
"Check one two, one two", that's my favorite
Strobe lights is live, Pink Champale
Little pink joints being lit up on the side
Couple niggas had two fives other than that
Cleared a circle in the park and shoot five
Girls wore they Lees and jellies
Jordache and Lees, Tale Lords fit the fellys
Samster Barons and Kangol buckets, BVD's
Go with the Sergio's like, fuck it
Seen the stamp on that Crazy Eddie
Niggas coming back from the Funhouse dusted
Throwing bubbles on the wall
We must remind you where this rap come from
Yes my brother, my sister
It's our duty, we must remind you
Hip hop was set out in the park
We used to do it out in the dark

Yo, it all started at
The After Midnight, Philly, but walk with me
Mad niggas coming down from New York City
Prolly hit the skating rink USA
Banging Schoolly, "Gangster Boogie" and "PSK"
I remember shells, Gazelles, top tens
And lottos
Mega design, reefer smoke, Coqui nine bottles

84's from Atlantic City Gucci store
Linoleum break dancing, Rust-Oleum cans
I put the writing on the wall signed
"Truly yours"
Philly smashed '87 Music Seminar
Out on the battlefield like Pat Benatar
Kick the ball with Krown Rulers out of Camden
People Patty Duke-ing in the party
All cramped in
Around the time Flav started cold lamping
"Rebel Without a Pause" was the street anthem
Old Memorex cassette, tape collections
Bright spotlights on all the
Fights at the Spectrum
When the Fresh Fest come
Leather bombers and sheepskins
Brothers would bust they guns to get one
MC Breeze, Disco C, Jazzy Jeff
Cash Money and Miz and Lady B
Everybody banging "Sucker MC's" in '83
I was South Philly like St
Charles and Crazy D
Them wild North Side Puerto
Ricans would snuff you
Twenty deep in a Ford Escort
Pumping the Tuff Crew
I used to follow my cousin, he was a buck too
"Y'all don't like how I'm living, well
Fuck you!" i been a G since a little kid
Sticking my head up into
Somebody's dollar party, getting into shit
And late nights, shoulda been in bed
Instead, I was running round
With them downtown lemonheads a little man
Hanging where them grown women is
Under thirteen, seeing real strong images
And that's the reason for
My real rap penmanship
That's where I started it
And that's where I'mma finish it