In tha Park - Intellectual

[Produced by Frank Dukes]

[Intro: Ghostface Killah]

One, two

Yeah, niggas don't know about Fatback

With the different color records they had back in the days

You know what I mean? The belt-driven turntables, the Technic joints

(With the slipmats)

Put nickels on the needles so the motherfuckin' record won't jump

The needle won't skip and shit

Gettin' juice from the fuckin' light poles

Shout out to the Bronx, nigga!

[Verse 1: Ghostface]

Ayo, this shit go way back like a Uni marker, kid

Bombing the D train and hit the Bronx up

Krylon bandits attack, Planet Rock, Bambaataa

Peace to Pelan discovering rap

And the DJ that made the first scratch

Paved the way for Flex, Mister Cee, 'nuff of them cats

See, this rap shit came at a time that was accurate

Twenty-something years later, I mastered it

Seen light poles get used for power

I was a little nigga

Couldn't stay out late, I was sour

So I sat by the window, heard the DJ cut

'Impeach the Pres', 'Apache', and 'Just Begun'

Otis Redding, 'Tramp'

The music stopped, guess the system blew out one of his amps

It'd take a little while, then it come back on

Somebody stepped on the wire and shit, that's all

Now everybody's back in the groove, echo chamber

"Check one two, one two", that's my favorite

Strobe lights is live, Pink Champale

Little pink joints being lit up on the side

Couple niggas had two fives

Other than that, cleared a circle in the park and shoot five

Girls wore they Lees and jellies

Jordache and Lees, Tale Lords fit the fellys

Samster Barons and Kangol buckets, BVD's

Go with the Sergio's like, fuck it

Seen the stamp on that Crazy Eddie

Niggas coming back from the Funhouse dusted

Throwing bubbles on the wall

[Hook: Ghostface]

We must remind you

Where this rap come from

Yes my brother, my sister

It's our duty, we must remind you

Hip hop was set out in the park

We used to do it out in the dark

[Verse 2: Black Thought]

Yo, it all started at the After Midnight, Philly, but walk with me

Mad niggas coming down from New York City

Prolly hit the skating rink USA

Banging Schoolly, "Gangster Boogie" and "PSK"

I remember shells, Gazelles, top tens, and lottos

Mega design, reefer smoke, Coqui nine bottles

[Entire wore velours, call the boys with the Lucci wore?]

84's from Atlantic City Gucci store

Linoleum break dancing, Rust-Oleum cans

I put the writing on the wall signed, "Truly yours"

Philly smashed '87 Music Seminar

Out on the battlefield like Pat Benatar

Kick the ball with Krown Rulers out of Camden

People Patty Duke-ing in the party, all cramped in

Around the time Flav started cold lamping

"Rebel Without a Pause" was the street anthem

Old Memorex cassette, tape collections

Bright spotlights on all the fights at the Spectrum

When the Fresh Fest come, leather bombers and sheepskins

Brothers would bust they guns to get one

MC Breeze, Disco C, Jazzy Jeff

Cash Money and Miz and Lady B

Everybody banging "Sucker MC's" in '83

I was South Philly like St. Charles and Crazy D

Them wild North Side Puerto Ricans would snuff you

Twenty deep in a Ford Escort, pumping the Tuff Crew

I used to follow my cousin, he was a buck too

"Y'all don't like how I'm living, well, fuck you!"

I been a G since a little kid

Sticking my head up into somebody's dollar party, getting into shit

And late nights, shoulda been in bed

Instead, I was running round with them downtown lemonheads

A little man, hanging where them grown women is

Under thirteen, seeing real strong images

And that's the reason for my real rap penmanship