Album

Old Man Raps


…paper cuts…
Bambu
Producer: Digital Martyrs
2010

Verse 1:

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

 

Verse 2:

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 L.A

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

 

Verse 3:

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

 

Outro:

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

L.A. stand up



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