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(Verse 1) |
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It?s way past my curfew in an emcee circle |
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Rhyme dispersal, the ones without rehearsal |
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And if Pops found me, I?d get smacked hard |
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By that tree branch from my own backyard |
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Cause it was all about textbooks and grades with A?s |
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Something hard to juggle as a hiphop slave |
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Skating on pave, or lounging after school with my crew |
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Writing tags on the bus, or finding ways to rock a shoe |
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Paying dues no return no concern back then |
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Like fat kids in lunch lines at shows packed in |
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For rhyme battles with ill punch lines at crunch time |
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By unknown emcees thinking why aren?t they signed? |
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Then I?d pick up a pen and express |
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Rhymes were nonsense but nonetheless were off my chest |
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While some thought I should stop wasting my breath |
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Dent on confidence I put my pen to rest |
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So what?s left but getting high every day |
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Rolling blunts with vegas, smoking profit away |
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Cypress Hill on play singing stoned is the way? |
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Singing stoned is the way? |
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(chorus) |
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And its like that I?m telling ya |
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That?s the way it went down, down down |
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And it?s like that I?m telling ya yo the truth is out my story is found |
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And its like that I?m telling ya |
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That?s the way it went down, down down |
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And its like that I?m telling ya, yo the truth is out |
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My story is found.. |
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(Verse 2) |
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And with mad smoke came the need for entertainment |
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But Hiphop radio was now playing some strange hits |
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Clubs gettin closed, cause money was tight |
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Folks would rather find some ass.. than that hiphop trash |
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And can I blame em? I?m sayin, things were rock bottom |
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With exceptions of few, my head was rarely nodding |
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So I got in a zone and blew the dust off my notepad |
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Arm wrestled with words, struggled with vocab |
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Then wrote, slowly steadily something something |
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If lyrics were harsh the beats had to be bumping |
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No frontin, right off the bat some turned their backs |
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But many felt the same which put my name on the map |
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And brought me down my coast , Japan and back |
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Mad support from locals cats, like homies at Stacks |
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With blunts burnt out at the end of its road |
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Blazing trails on a spiritual path, with new goals |
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And that?s how it went how the plot unfolds |
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They asked about the story so let it be told |
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(chorus) |
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And its like that I?m telling ya |
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That?s the way it went down, down down |
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And it?s like that I?m telling ya yo the truth is out my story is found |
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And its like that I?m telling ya |
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That?s the way it went down, down down |
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And its like that I?m telling ya, yo the truth is out |
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My story is found.. |
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(Verse 3) |
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Singing one for free cans and two for mean streaks |
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That?s the very track that put my past in the streets |
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Deejays copped doubles to juggle the beats |
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Using language that managed to let their hands speak |
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To peeps that showed love but not all felt this rhyme sayer |
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Non believers, killing vibes like Cal Tjader |
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Cause of my race or the way I appeared |
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But still I ran the race when placed to the rear |
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Imagine a gook, a youth jumped by truth |
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Kicked out spots at age five cause eyes looked glued |
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Mentally struck, forget peaches and cream and such |
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But it built my biceps and today I lift up |
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Jotting down facts and pouring out my soul in these raps |
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Fingers crossed, till herds are left with words that last |
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And beats that make dancers put soul in their movements |
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Wreckin? shop from the bay, La back to Brooklyn |
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Kids scratch temples, scientists bite fists |
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Kero?s on the scene shining light through mist |
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Cause if I?m not fueling the flame I?m like a puppet |
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My mouth might move but I ain?t sayin nothing |
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So stay tuned to see how this ends |
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Sayin peace, sincerely yours, till we meet again |
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Sayin peace..till we meet again |
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Sayin peace? |
