Walkman Child (Recon)

Southern California the land of the smog

Back in the day before the cd or ipod

You could find my feet stompin from block to block

Backpack full of tapes it’s bout to be a long walk like

Headphones batteries time to kick rocks

Ice Cube De La Soul Fellowship Pac

Leaders of the New School

Drez and Jay Rock

Hi-C AMG of course the Sure Shot like

Gangstarr Saafir when the Box Car’s dropped

Ras Kass Tribe man the list it don’t stop

This was the Golden era of Hip Hop

When even the radio played that shit that got props

KDAY Friday night flavors Wake up show on top

Way before Snoop ever dropped it like it’s hot

Good life and Unity those were the spots

And all my heads know about the days of the walk

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

Singin boom bap original rap

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

Singing boom bap original rap

Strollin down the streets cuz that’s how I was liven

Constantly movin with my Walkman kickin

All alone in the zone and I’m feelin no friction

The soundtrack of my life with no cd skippin

Pete Rock got me rewind’n remixes

Jeru got me havin jungle music visions

Then it’s time to pay the ATL a little visit

Goodie Mob and Outkast

Southern Playalistic

Back to the West Coast Alkaholiks and Xzibit

And let me tell you to this day that I am still livid

That the Golden State Warrior album never got finished

I say that as a connoisseur never as a critic

Addicted to these tapes like they had nicotine in it

My heart rate in sync with the beats played per minute

Pushin the reels of my Walkman to the limit

Switch right over to the B-side when the A-side is finished

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

Singin boom bap original rap

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

Singing boom bap original rap

Downloads and burnables music that is free

Modern technology is just not the same to me

Give me that throw-back old grainy sound quality

A mix tape ain’t the same as a mix of mp3’s

And I know at this point that there’s no going back

Feelin like my Pop’s did when he lost his 8-track

Storin all my collections like they were artifacts

Feel it in my chest every time another tape snap

Doin what I can to try and preserve my favorite tracks

Played so many times there’s a constant hissing in the back

Having no real choice but to switch to compact

But I know better than to let me myself get attached

Cuz there’s always new shit being put up on the racks

Thank God for all the DJ’s that’s protecting all our wax

Rest in peace to my tape’s but I’ll let you know a fact

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

Singin boom bap original rap

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

Singing boom bap original rap

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

Singing boom bap original rap

I’m a Walkman child raised by the boom bap

Raised by the boom bap

Raised by the boom bap

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