Old at Heart

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Keir

Keir or Kier () is a Gaelic name derived from Ciar, meaning "The Dark One". more »

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Cold winds
A cold front
Cold flows
Air Max and some cold garms
Knitted Patta sweater
I'm old at heart
So I spill this ink and quill
You best believe I'm coming up
There's cold winds
A cold front
I got cold flows
Air Max with them cold garms
Knitted Patta sweater
I'm so old at heart
And so I spill this ink and quill
You best believe I'm coming up
I can't hide behind concrete and cheap bricks my whole life
This Brutalism paved the way for lowlifes that hold knives
Booky rhythms paved the way for lo-fi
These new beginnings paved my way to the stage, showtime
Cold nights
Bitter winds in gritty bits of Britain, written
Once bitten?
Nah, f*ck that
Bro, I was smitten
I couldn't predict or plan this, didn't know this was my mission
Call me Covid since I've lost my twenty-twenty vision
Maybe it's a given
I had a young mother raising me on Biggie Smalls and Dr Dre
Listening to Raymond as they ushered us into the headteacher's office
InI and Pete Rock en route to college
"Yo, the Nineties called, they want their shit back"
I politely declined
I'm too preoccupied with writing lines
Why?
Cause the might of the sword
Is no match for the might of the mind
And yet I'd die for another night on the mic
I ain't saying shit about these star signs
Leased cars or heart-eyes, I'm slowing down in fast times
The crates I'm digging, filled with treasures from the past
I hope the new ones making waves just remember where we've come from, like
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Just remember where we've come from
The places that we've run from
Cold winds
A cold front
Cold flows
Air Max and some cold garms
Knitted Patta sweater
I'm old at heart
So I spill this ink and quill
You best believe I'm coming up
There's cold winds
A cold front
I got cold flows
Air Max with them cold garms
Knitted Patta sweater
I'm so old at heart
And so I spill this ink and quill
You best believe I'm coming up
In my day
These eight-oh-eights got used in a real fine way
Clear syllables, black ink on a white page
No mumble rappers droning like they're biplanes
MCs would spit fire, Messerschmidts in the skies, mate
Air's been dead like someone cut us off
Radio's been jammed with all these mindless hits
This fucking tosh
I know I'm chatting geriatric, but it's all I've got
I'll run in with my shield and sabre while they're popping shots
We're moving stout, while they're coming like they're Jäger
They've been backing new ones back-to-back, paying for it later
Stumbling round the venue, we're already on the stage
It's me and M up here
Straight blazed since Tinker penned his Js
If you're defending the art, we'll remember you
Heart, reflection, introspection, grow into the better you
It's corduroy jazz rap
Old school, like flat caps
Never dead, no snapbacks
That's on sight like "clack-clack"
I ain't saying shit about your TikTok or Insta
Your image don't mean nothing if you miss the bigger picture
I'm pissed off, tripping over my diction
I hope the new ones making waves listen
That's my mission
There's cold winds
A cold front
I got cold flows
Air Max with them cold garms
Knitted Patta sweater
I'm so old at heart
And so I spill this ink and quill
You best believe I'm coming up
Cold winds
A cold front
Cold flows
Air Max and some cold garms
Knitted Patta sweater
I'm old at heart
So I spill this ink and quill
You best believe I'm coming up
Cold winds
A cold front
Cold flows
Air Max and some cold garms
Knitted Patta sweater
I'm old at heart
So I spill this ink and quill
You best believe I'm coming up

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