’86

[Intro: C-Rayz Walz]
Hip hop

[Hook: C-Rayz Walz and (Sample from [?])] (x2)
("'Bout to tear it up) '86, '86, '86

[Verse 1: C-Rayz Walz]
Yo, yo, want C-notes and deep throats
I'm from the era of sheep coats
Manila envelopes and weed smoke
Block parties in 22. Graffiti artists like Tru
Two and Jewel—just to name a few for you
Now or Laters and son dudes. You hear, son?
Fair ones—before niggas learned gun fu
Yeah, Run D.M.C.s were original
Now we got pretty thugs and soft criminals
I remember hip hop not dominated by visual
Your rap was critical or the crowd got rid of you (Boooo!)
Now it's pseudo-pitiful. Plus punks be 'fessin
Selling records, talk about what they dressed in
I'm saying that's a part of it (What?) but not the start of it
The livest show used to be in your apartment, kid
Hip hop! Started out in the dark
Now it's mainly focused to where the fly cars is parked
But it's still in my, still in my heart

[Hook: C-Rayz Walz and (Sample from [?])]
'86, '86, '86
("'Bout to tear it up) '86, '86, '86
("'Bout to tear it up)

[Verse 2: C-Rayz Walz]
Bizzy B told y'all. Now I'mma Kurtis Blow y'all out the art
So fresh, you jet from perfected darts
Mic projection sharp. Your heart pump Kool-Aid
You whack. What?!? Bring the noise! I got crazy backup
Pow-Wow was my neighbor, Rasheen had flavor
I was pumping Sugarhill on my sister's record player
Window wide-open. "The Message" was blasting
UTFO was next, then Inspector Gadget
Had to be near bastards to see mean shots
Never was a killer—couldn't make it to my 13 box
5 cent refund brung change for video games
Now I see the youth—the scenario changed
It used to be the truth—only rappers had big change
We argued "Who was nicer? Rakim, KRS, or Kane?"
I'm having "Nightmares." I had to speak to Dana Dane
Told him I remember the days and how they make me wanna say
Wanna say, wanna say

[Hook: C-Rayz Walz and (Sample from [?])]
'86, '86, '86
("'Bout to tear it up) '86, '86, '86
("'Bout to tear it up)

[Verse 3: C-Rayz Walz]
I was body popping, rocking, shocking, plotting to splash in class
Girls said I looked like Lakim Shabazz
My homegirl Roxy was Manhattan's daughter
So slick, she bought a bag of chips with a Latin Quarter
Word to Big Bird (Heard?) and the Izod gator
Let's take it Back to the Future without the flux capacitators
No backsees, no penny tax for clones
On my tracks, I would die over Spit like Ramon
You wack and get no dap for your rap
Shot through the bottom of your feet—now that's my soul clap
So go gold or go plat', but don't go back
Unless you down by law cause you might get slapped and jacked
Smash your turntables with a hammer (One, two)
Now. How's that for breakbeats? Knowledge my grammar
At the rally with my Ballies when it's time to show and prove
On some old school shit like make me, make me move
What?