[Verse 1]

This is the old school rhymes for the old school times

Took the lift to the top of the grand arcade

Started playing beats Friday Night Lights and the Pharacyde

Over on the far side by the empty parking space I write/

Similes and metaphors of my life through the mic

Sighting colleges and other buildings on my right

Sipping my ideas finding the best amount for flight

Progressing with the flows realise I’m a master with the kite

See it moving every way, transforming in the night

Kevlar in my rhymes saves the game and it’s plight

Relaxed with my syntax, even though it’s minus five outside

I should really study schooling stuff before I find myself behind

I’m 15 had enough that’s why I have no fine health and rewind

Vinyl records 45’ to find the scratch and sample line

To help me hit the limelight have fun with you in the funnel lights

Startle with my class of rhyme, a parcel on the greatest night

Hook: Stories through my love

Stories crafted by my glove

Stories for the club

And the stories for for the cubs x 2

It’s the old school rhymes for the old school times x 4

Verse 2:

Crafting in the cave had enough of these stalagmites

And the stalactites crying right above about to die

My pan of fire trap of death for any rapper writing rhymes

Freestyling in my studio cables in a crazy bind

My head hurts every time I walk in when I hit the aerial

Scent of aerosol cause the foam on it is very new

My birthplace and my burial, my journal through your radio

Zane Lowe calling up execs to play me on his show today

Treating prose like clay and forming new and special shapes

12 years old I heard this noise my follicle it moved with poise

To the music as I felt the joy within my loins

Let me be frank on this joint like swiss tax/

Not in it for masses of the pages on the contracts

Founder of that Cambridge lyricsm that’s a known fact

Transition to my ambition trapped in a little prison

Here to show you my visions with wisdom within my writtens

[Hook]

[Verse 3]

Let me tell you why they’re deciding to sign him

I tell concise stories about my youth plus lies and sin

Tight denim, black sb’s vintage Adidas jackets

Herschel bags relaxed drug antics within the attic

Not to mention I talk of world affairs that we have manage

In a world full of a flakes and racist states, slaying of Asians, fake narrations

Kuwait’s crates of oil and offshore havens in the Caiman Islands

Every place new slaves are trained to buy stuff for their lives

That lead to constant death and massive waves of health declines

Lack of education leads the blind inside the brain we’re chained

They tell us that the sky’s the apex and any dream is time constrained

Well I’m here to stay stake my place in the USA and space

I entertain veins pulsing in my neck with what I strain to say

Don’t taint my rain falling out through my larynx and the palate

Where I formulate my painting no matter the cash around it

Purifier and nasty truth, then I vanish from this rap shit