Verse 1
Before the playlists, before the likes and the views,
It was a boom-bap beat and something real to prove.
Park jams, cardboard, radios loud,
Kangol hats, gold chains, rhythm of the crowd.
Run-DMC kicked doors with Adidas pride,
No gimmicks, just truth with the beat as a guide.
LL told the world he was harder than leather,
While Slick Rick painted pictures, smooth as the weather.
Chorus
This that old school hip hop, straight from the soul,
When a verse could save your life, when the culture was whole.
No shortcuts, no cap, just heart in the pen,
Salute to the legends — we don’t get that again.
Verse 2
Rakim taught gods how to write in the pocket,
Every bar calculated, every word a rocket.
KRS-One dropped knowledge, mic as a weapon,
“Rap is something you do,” yeah he said it, he meant it.
Public Enemy fighting power through noise,
Chuck D’s voice shook the system, not just rappers — warriors.
Eric B on the cuts, Marley Marl on the boards,
Queensbridge storytelling straight from the courts.
Chorus
This that old school hip hop, vinyl and dust,
When you trusted every lyric ‘cause the story was us.
From the streets to the world, every block had a gem,
Salute to the legends — we don’t get that again.
Verse 3
West Coast sun but the message was dark,
Ice-T spoke survival from the city to the park.
N.W.A said it raw, no filter, no fear,
They told the truth, made the whole world hear.
Scarface bled pain through a Southern lens,
2Pac mixed poetry with rage and revenge.
Biggie told hustler tales, slick talk and sin,
While Nas wrote Illmatic like a journal of Queens.
Bridge
It wasn’t just music, it was life on wax,
Every crack in the system, every fight back.
Tape decks rewindin’, tryin’ to catch every line,
Back when a verse made you think about time.
Verse 4
De La Soul brought color, Tribe brought the jazz,
Common spoke growth while the beat did the math.
Gang Starr kept it real, Premier on the cuts,
One snare, one kick, that was more than enough.
No mumble, no mask, just voice and belief,
A microphone, a story, and a hunger for peace.
Final Chorus / Outro
This that old school hip hop, etched in the bone,
From the Bronx to the world, every mic was a throne.
We stand on their shoulders, every bar that we pen,
Long live the culture — from now ‘til the end.
