Correction Paroles Golden Age (Radio Edit) par Ol’ Dirty Bastard

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Paroles

Now well they say the music you loved when you started gettin' laid
Will be the music you love till your casket's in the grave
And the first time I ever got a girl in the sheets
She let Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique play on repeat
("Hey Ladies") Was the theme song of my teens
And though heavy into metal, for beats I was a fiend
And for me the utter peak was circa '94
'Cause just like Dirt McGirt, (Ooh, baby, I like it raw)
And the '90s wеre so that that those cats
Made mе start writin' my own raps
And grindin' my bozack up there on the stage
Screamin' at mother******* like Zack when frontin' Rage
But nowadays due to such a metamorphosis
It seems hip hop sucks a dead horse's ****
'Cause most tracks comin' through are so wack
That all I wanna do is go back

'Cause I'm an old mother****** set in my ways
And now that everything's changed I'm lamentin' the days
Of hip hop culture when it entered a phase called
(The golden age (What?), the golden age)
Before Biggie and Pac and Jam Master Jay
All got themselves shot and all passed away
Rap ruled and new school ain't surpassed the days of
(The golden age (What?), the golden age)

*Scratching*

So freestyle in my face, mother****** I'ma slap you
These days every man and his dog's a ******* rapper
And that's the reason why the standard in rap's dropped
'Cause all you really need to make a track is a laptop
So people release **** who can't even make beats yet
They rap to what sounds like a Reason 3 preset
And though I've found the **** to sound a bit counterfeit
And the beat's had the funk sucked out of it, ***** are proud of it
Because the crowd'll pick style over substance
You can kill 'em all with syllables without makin' much sense
Your point could be flawed or lackin' in heart
Yet the label ensures that you're smashin' the charts apart
And that's the curse of commercialisation
So **** every j*rk who ever worked at a station
Givin' radio play to the labels who pay
For makin' hip hop a blatant cliché

*Scratching*
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop the clock
Stop, stop the clock

So they're sayin' now that hip hop's dead and that the golden age is over
And if it ain't dead, it's definitely in a coma
It's kinda like a joke, it's so morbid and sick
And it's sorta got me thinkin' that I oughta just quit
But ****, I wanna see the scene back in its prime
So I'ma raise the dead like Frankenstein
While I'm reanimating older boom bap flows
And breathin' life into the golden age 2.0

Takin' over the scene to change the flow of the cream
Slappin' hipster hoppers out of stovepipe jeans
With flows and rhyme schemes to show why I'm deemed
Bona fide king of these open mic fiends
So it's all good to be commercial and pop
But don't be sellin' your soul and think you're earnin' your props, you're not
You think your posse rips sermons when you rock?
Well let me tell you, all you're doin' is ****in' each other off

'Cause I'm an old mother******, veteran stage
And I'll be steady gettin' better with age till I'm dead in the grave
And givin' life to these old veneers into my
(Golden years (What?), my golden years)
And even after ninety when I'm old and weird
Growin' little beards from my moles and ears
I'm gonna do it how I done it for my whole career into my
(Golden years (What?), my golden years)
'Cause I'm an old mother****** set in my ways
And now that everything's changed I'm lamentin' the days
Of hip hop culture when it entered a phase called
(The golden age (What?), the golden age)
Before Biggie and Pac and Jam Master Jay
All got themselves shot and all passed away
Rap ruled and new school ain't surpassed the days of
(The golden age (What?), the golden age)

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