Block Party ’94

(90s boom bap – dusty drums, upright bass sample, vinyl crackle) [Intro – radio tuning + DJ scratch] Yeah… live from the rooftop Timbs on the pavement, summer heat Where the tape hiss louder than the sirens [Verse 1] Milk crate seats at the corner store meet Freestyle circles where the old heads speak Bus pass tucked in a Champion coat Dreams bigger than the labels we wrote Subway walls tell stories in spray Tag names echo where the night trains sway Gold chain swing to the rhythm of the block Streetlight flicker like a metronome clock Payphone ringing but I’m dodging that call Got a pocket full of tokens and a head full of bars Boom box blast make the whole park move Every heartbeat locked in the groove [Hook – crowd chant] Hands up high when the beat drop low Nineties on the soul, let the whole world know From the blacktop court to the late-night show We live, we ride, that’s the way we flow Say hey! (hey!) – to the old school sound Tape deck spinning while the world turn round No filter needed, just the truth we found Block party vibe when the bassline pound [Verse 2] Baggy denim drag on the concrete floor Window fan spinning in the project door Mama yelling “turn that music down” But the rhythm too loud, gotta hold that crown Corner cypher lit by a stolen crate Spitting hungry rhymes like we can’t be late Every line raw, no polished gloss Just ambition wrapped in a starter jacket toss Basketball bounce keep time with the snare City night breeze through the braids and hair Dreams of a deal but we still on the train Writing sixteen bars in the windowpane [Hook] Hands up high when the beat drop low Nineties on the soul, let the whole world know From the blacktop court to the late-night show We live, we ride, that’s the way we flow Say hey! (hey!) – to the old school sound Tape deck spinning while the world turn round No filter needed, just the truth we found Block party vibe when the bassline pound [Bridge – half-time, DJ cuts] Wikki-wikki – summer of ’93 Graffiti dreams on the MTA Late night cipher, no curfew sign Just a mic, a beat, and a state of mind [Verse 3] Fat laces tied on the playground gate Every setback fuel for a better fate Street knowledge mixed with a scholar’s plan Tryna turn these rhymes to a mortgage land From the lunch table beats with the hands on wood To the open mic night in the neighborhood We built this sound from the ground we stood Nineties era carved in the grain of good [Outro – crowd noise + fade] Yeah… from the park jam to the subway car Every scar turn lyric, every lyric a star Old school forever, no matter how far Block party spirit is who we are.**