In Search of the Youth Crew
I remember that summer up in the crib
Just like Adam with the missing rib
The cocaine kids where they use to live
And the hairdresser use to talk, yeah real, real clear
But I gotta a grapevine he's going into fits
The answer my friend is blowing in the wind
How the dumb monkey fights gorillas in the midst
In the struggle of the fists for a slice of the fifth
Back then yea, I didn't use to rip shows
I bro down with no shit, Sherlock
Nerder hop no number, I'd never talk slop
I only talk chop like drop your drink
Drop your pants
Drop your plans
Drop your friends
Drop your hands
Rob a link
Pop and lock for young hemknott
We use to grab pop like Bruce Willis asks, "Whatchu talking bout?"
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
Silent summer's discreet about it
Gotta hammers in the wrist and a line of gout
And this those kids with the rubber headbands
And deadpan comedy clothes pinned to the dress
No spins just presses, preferably for courtship
Most kid contortion, I'm not very sharp
But I'm dull for importance if your down for a lark
Oh you know me? Oh you know about sharks?
It's a reference, less party than the shark
Tank, green to the scene, hardly even started
Hip-hop hipsters, dearly departed
Cover the phrase and keep it in your locket
We're all on the floor, regretting the week
With no shame on top or beneath the sheets
Youth funeral, yeah send me a wreath
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back (chyeah)
Met the young girl that I'd seen on defamer
Couldn't talk like sex, no talk like Kramer
If you wanna check me, baby I'm easy
You're a cute lil-styler with a half-eaten writer
Cut off your fitted cap, take your power like Syklar
I run out the clock, report it to the myzer
Rhyme wise, I'm a lifer with a bullet-ridden bedpost
Nose to the grindstone, dig 'em 'til your mind's blown
Throw in the fuse
The girls got loose on fructose juice
At the hop out like halo, it taste just like Salo
The time that I speak will track nine of this album
Club goers prouder than a nose knows talcum
I still rock the arrows like the riddler
Wasted kids still sneaking into the club
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back
The youth crews back