Whayback

I calculate that eighty-five was the year

I first grabbed the pen, daydreamin of the cheers

Ahead from rockin shows, no Girbauds that sag

The windbreaker suits and backspins that was mad

I stress progress roll joints at my rest

til the ill wee hours, and I knew it was the best

I hit mad spots, many crews got dropped

While I was gettin props niggaz was dealin on the block

Stayin in crib on the weekends was Marley Marl

was freakin the cuts Mr. Magic was speakin

That's how I got my first taste, makin tapes

til the rhyme skill was great and my style would escalate

Practice made my perfect tactics

Now my dap gets clap, cause I'm the rap snap fanatic

But now in nine-trey I got the T-Ray track

And my trunks, my roots are growin styles from whayback

I flash back to fat Kangol hats, with plastic

Back when steppin on kicks in eighty-six got your ass kicked

Bombers and sheepskins, were common when I first started rhymin

Still I found time to go bombin

Me and my pals rocked Cazals with no glass

Dark flavored Clarks, Lee Denims off the ass

Back when Mr. Magic had it goin all the way on

the beat with BDP, added flavor like a crayon

Indeed MC's would represent with the skills

But now in ninety-three a lot of them can get the dillz

It seems like a little sumthin missin in the mix

But now I got a deal, so it's up to me to fix

When niggaz put me up on, with funky raps to cut on

Word is BOND, if I hear another wack rap song

I might snap and it's an actual fact

that I'ma kick it like that, cause this is strictly bout the whayback

Aww man damn, whayback, things was kinda fat

Had the Godfather knot, a Starter hat, things are kinda wack

now, packed up, my cardboard and stepped away

I didn't have a choice, the culture was slayed

B.D. had died, and things were dissapearin

The West coast was here and all these wack beats appearin

DJ's were breakin down record store doors

to get the Biz Dance and the Chante Moore's

Peace to Buck Four, Rocksteady on the floor

New York and Dynamic crews plus many more

Remember the time when you didn't pack a nine

Niggaz just came to hear some, funky ass rhymes

But all of that's over, cause brothers want to act up

No clubs to go to, they'll just pack rap up

That's how the media wants it to stop

So peep the verse and last showin of Graffiti Rock

So check it, the brothers want to wreck it

To get what's expected, cause hip-hop, should be respect

Gotta get it back, to get it on track

Artifacts kickin styles illy on the whayback

Like back when my Timberlands were only size sixes

I used to take pictures shootin spitballs at bitches

Cross New Jersey Transit just to see a rapper kick it

But now I ain't with it, cause niggaz just ain't worth the ticket

Shit man, I remember jams that were slammin

Gettin me and my man in, was harder than backgammon

DJ's would scratch back to back from boom baps

And rappers with real raps, could drop shit real fat

But now kid, as I recollect, rappers out who caught wreck

respected, just got stuck up in my tape deck

Real deal hip-hop, when Biz used to flip-flop

His fat ass, on stage'd do a dance, in busted Reeboks

Niggaz musta forgot, when real rhymes was hot

Cause now if you ain't gold, you ain't got no props

But fuck that, I'm above that, I don't play that

The Artifacts staff drops math about the whayback

"It's a demo.." "Back in back in the days"

"You gots to chill.." "Back in back in the days"

"South Bronx" "The Bri to The Bridge"

'South Bronx" "Back in back in the days"

"Jimbrowski..

that's what it is" "Back in back in the days"

"Like that y'all, it's like that y'all

It's like thatta that, it's like that y'all" (4X)