Bosses - Reef The Lost Cauze

This right here is to pay homage

To all the forefathers who taught us that talent get you farther than revolvers

It’s an honor to be here

Especially surrounded by this garbage

They made to steadily try to bombard us

They gettin zooted on they own stardust

I’m suited up like Spartacus, back up on my rebel army shit

Strapped up, full of clips, back up, hear them spit

Flame cannons doin' damage, can you manage harder hits?

This is that honor shit, all my niggas that started this

We do it from the heart with this

The industry try to starve the kids

And make our music so hard to flip

Promotin' for opponents

To lock the kids up in them bars to clip

Homo celebs stickin dick in male orifices

Instead me and Reef runnin up in your offices

So cut all your losses, kids

We burnin down the industry

Nigga you next, we wanna know who the bosses is

In this day and age my wrath is like a plague

I married this bitch, y’all niggas is still engaged

The reason I came — what the game now needs in its veins

This is our season of reign, I’m releasin' your reins

I respect you, yeah, you got a rep, true

But I done put in my time, homie, I’m a vet, too

Not a pet doc, you heard what I said, pops

I’m young and hungry, old head, you’ll get your head chopped

I know better, I spit harder and flow better

We open for yo old ass and rip the show better

When it comes to music

I give you props for what you did, not what you’re doin

All I’m sayin is y’all need to fall back

Same faces been around for years, now they all wack

I’m that bold with it, I’m that cold with it

Been spittin since '88, I’m that old with it

So fuck you old critics, keep your lips locked

You did your thing with it, but dog, you don’t own hip-hop

Fuck you old critics, keep your lips locked

You did your thing with it, but you don’t own hip-hop

Fuck you old critics, we ain’t here to share with y’all

Just sit your old ass down and drink some Geritol

Fuck you old critics, we ain’t here to share with y’all

Just sit your old ass down

Low tolerance, it makes no kinda sense

Common attempts to show dominance

The whole lot went along with it

With a collective middle finger to all critics

Get a perspective, why these kids receptive

To what goes over your head — live and let live

That’s right — over your head, not beneath you

See, it’s you seekin' that which don’t seek you

They don’t need you to know who’s cool

Refuse to play by the old school rules

Old school blues, the newest sounds

Grate the ears of old folks losin ground

Hate to hear what provokes dudes who hear it

And get a injection of youthful spirit

Whether or not the message will astound or move you

We gets down with or without approval

And thick crowns on the heads of new kings

Broke tradition, ready to do things

This way better than that way, the past way a rap way

Past the last day sadly

A trap may lie behind, seein me is more

Than a prize, a choice between 3 doors