Letra Ol skool Bishop Lamont

Ol skool

(Verse)
Yeah, this is how you do it when you're chilling like I be
Fresh everyday, my whole wardrobe is nicey
Never overdo it, never getting our pricey
I keep it real simple like a did-o's septemb'os
Sweats black T while I freestyle on instrumentals,
And then invertedly my bird ain't getting up too fly
And certainly they worship me, I'm high up in the sky
Clouds with me, transcending space and time.
Searching fast starts for a brand new rhyme,
13.3 billion light years
Super-scientific, bringing ill to your ears,
To catch up with me is gonna take a couple years.
Enjoy the night time while I be pip in the sky-line
Up on a roof top with a glass of wine,
With a fine little honey, yeah, I'm so refined,
Yeah, I'm so refined, you can't stop my shine.

(Hook)
I'm on my oldschool shit, I'm on my oldschool shit,
I'm on my oldschool shit, I'm on my oldschool shit,
Got my Adidas on, three stripes down,
Cango to the side, how you like me now?
I'm on my oldschool shit, I'm on my oldschool shit,
I'm on my oldschool shit, I'm on my oldschool shit,
Got the Timbalands on with the army for ticks
Puffy bubble band say place up the weed.

(Verse)
My type of rhyming is to symbolize with the socialism
To free the mind from all the chains from all religions
Steaks and signs, intertwined is the colloquialism
Lexical to technical, bumping up your stereo system.
No stress, I just manifest the real,
While you're out, display yourself over a phoney ass deal.
I analyze and visualize the days implies with the odds of a profit
Who only speaks and seeks the truth.
Still logic, methodic, robotic in the booth,
Flow mechanical, tiranical, the bars ain't coop.
I spit a mouth full of jewels, none of you fools could afford
Shipping real for real system, cut ombilical chord.
See, I never fake moves around with coward ass crews,
Nah, uh-uh, I only fucks with the realest.
So don't put me in your playlist next to bitch-ass niggers,
Don't put me in your playlist next to bitch-ass niggers.

(Hook)
I'm on my oldschool shit, I'm on my oldschool shit,
I'm on my oldschool shit, I'm on my oldschool shit,
Got my Adidas on, three stripes down,
Cango to the side, how you like me now?
I'm on my oldschool shit, I'm on my oldschool shit,
I'm on my oldschool shit, I'm on my oldschool shit,
Got the Timbalands on with the army for ticks
Puffy bubble band say place up the weed.

(Bridge)
Whatever happened to the days when they gets used to kill it
Karate skills and every bar had to be the illest
No biting, no faking, better be the realest,
Cause if they find out, they at your show and fucking kill it
Jump at stage, neck in chains and tell you run that,
Take your cast, bitch ass and tell you don't come back.
Look now, phoney niggers is acceptable,
Turning hip hop into a garbage ass spectacle.