Lyrics

[Intro] Wait you still listen to rap? Why? It's all about marketing now [Verse 1: Cool Calm Pete] They calling you a criminal, the TV spins News update caught on 1010 wins A newfangled out look and what not Lost focus caught staring at them sun spots Blind and bitter latter-day afflictions Neither here nor there, recollections You're bright-eyed, bushy tailed and off-beat Fangs full of drool, jonesing for fresh meat You back in Brooklyn used to drink deuce-deuces Pink fumes, rooftops, summertime ruthless Half-court, second floor, whiskey reckless Bad job, jaded like my grandma's necklace Scuffle with egos, brand new sciences Musical chairs, same old alliances Still flirting with disasters she wanna date Sacrifice the queen - checkmate [Verse 2: Cool Calm Pete] A hearty meal from the soul kitchen cookbook About face, real-time shook 180, brand new Mercedes Street clothes tight, thugged out 80's Yo, ain't it crazy how the shit come back? And in the blink of an eye is like shit is all whack Copycats, they still blow up spots They kill it, milk it, exploit it in shops *ka-ching* Non-stop, as he trying to hawk memories To the highest bidder, straight to the assembly A felony, not to call these fakes out So bent out of shape, I even looked left out Misshapen, mutated for the front page Rap for life, minimum wage You're all the rage, the kids just wanna bug Same lonely girls, just wanna cut a rug [Verse 3: Cool Calm Pete] Sending the search party, man, I'm looking for hope Have you seen this delicate creature? The answer was no Baffled by the coordination, pretty girls jump rope Slinging though these loop holes, pretty warm coat Rock that shit homie, the climate is frigid Rough and tumble mumble left these dry lips livid Vivid is the picture, read it off the text Blow up like Funkmaster Flex sound effects Smashing through these modern walls but a hindrance Rocking throwback mid-90's ignorance Brimming with rage, eyes looking glossy Wrastling you reptiles like that crazy Aussie (crikey!) These days are rough on the psyche Two-double-o-five still scuffing up my Nike's No backsies it's the Cool Calm track meet Run amok, don't give a fuck, you can't catch me