My Old-School

Grew up in Hackham, where all the houses were dilapidated

If you crossed the king of your street, you'd end up decapitated

To protect yourself, you always had to act agitated

Bank accounts always dry; none of them were saturated

Then we grew up, and started stackin' the bills

Back in my day you'd state how you actually feel

Never make it these days, even when rappin' with skill

Gotta try shock the scene, like a slap to the grill

When I say "Old-school," they're like Let that shit go, man

"This that new-age shit, so get with the program

It's the ostrich effect, 'cos they're head is below sand

Messin' with the old-school's like tryna Mess With The Zohan