I miss those days, Weekends out in Asbury Park.
Rack a can of paint and decorate the cities heart.
Way back when Kingsley was strip clubs and bars.
Before it got revamped and they censored out every part.
There was something in the air like some sort of lost art.
That inspired me to rhyme, Thats where I got my start.
Back when local cats claimed Brooklyn on tracks.
I vowed in return that I would put it on the map.
And so began in essence, The life of a message.
In the form of an emcee getting nice on a record.
Cut back and spit it at any crowd I could pivot at.
Till too much gunplay caused clubs to get rid of rap.
Poof...Bring it back to the top of the fitted hat.
Came to show the magic to anybody who feels the track.
This for my people who been showing me love.
We gone make sure this city raise up.
Come on now raise your drinks up high,
We gone toast to the city this time.
Now as im sitting at that light by Kennedy Fried Chicken.
Im looking at the park and my mind stars reminiscing.
Remember walking home the first time I got lifted.
Smoking out a beer can till my legs went missing.
Back then the record shop was still hitting,
I would come and sling tapes until the owner came bitching.
Come back and hour later cop tapes by the brick then,
Go back home to press up my next shipment.
I've been doing this myself since the genesis.
Couldn't afford a Sega, I would rock that Nintendo shit.
Used to hop the train to Long Branch when the summer hit,
Just to roll around and try to hit up on some summer chicks.
There was some good times, Whole lotta good times.
Used to find a bum to buy us 40s all the time,
Back when we were too young to even know the price.
Paying $10 for some warm Colt.45.
Come on now raise your drinks up high,
We gone toast to the city this time.
Now when you walk through today, You can see theres a change,
Gentrified from the former vibe of memory lane.
From the Abandoned strip where the Pawn shop reigns,
Now neighbor to Art Galleries with Four Star Taste.
Where they'd love to forget about the music we make,
But when the city failed we were all that remained.
From the Stone Pony, Wonder Bar, down to The Saint.
Rest in Peace to the Moon Rock and places we'd skate.
Shout to to Rebearth for the cans I spray.
Use it to beautify the streets of former urban decay.
Its been a long time coming but we well on the way.
Yea they tried to snub us out but now the strongest remain.
Been on the map since Bruce's first LP.
Now they got this little fucker on the M.I.C.
And Imma rep the streets until I D.I.E.
Cuz I feel I found myself in the city of A.P.
Come on now raise your drinks up high,
We gone toast to the city this time.
credits
from SELF TITLED (2012),
track released March 19, 2012
Written By : C.Cerchio aka Solo For Dolo
Produced By : Maker
Recorded At : Mercy Sounds Studios (NYC)
Mixed & Engineered By : Pat Noon
Mastered By : Roger "Re-Kon" Quinn @ Asbury Media (NJ)
Cover Art & Photography By : Solo For Dolo
Booking/Contact : parkviewprojects@gmail.com
Recorded at the rapper's Brooklyn apartment during lockdown, this album offers poignant reflections on the uncertain decisions defining the uncharted territory of today's reality. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jul 21, 2020
