"In Search Of The Youth Crew" as written by and Roland Pemberton....
I remember that summer up in the crib
Just like Adam with the missing rib
The cocaine kids where they use to live
And the hairdresser use to talk... yeah real real clear
But I gotta a grapevine he's going into fits
The answer my friend is blowing in the wind
How the dumb monkey fights gorillas in the midst
In the struggle of the fists for a slice of the fifth

Back then yea, I didn't use to rip shows
I bro down with no shit, sherlock
Nerder hop no number, I'd never talk slop
I only talk chop like drop your drink
Drop your pants
Drop your plans
Drop your friends
Drop your hands
Loss your rings
Pop and lock for young hemknott
We use to grab pop like bruce willis asks whatchu
Talking bout?

The youth crews back

Silent summer's discreet about it
Gotta hammers in the wrist and a line of gout
And this is those kids with the rubber headbands
And deadpan comedy closed into the dressers
No spins just presses, preferably for courtship
Most kid contortion, I'm not very sharp
But I'm dull for importance if your down for a lark
Oh you know me? oh you know about "Sharks"?

It's a reference, less party than the shark...
Tank, greed to the seems, partly it was started
Hip-hop hipsters, dearly departed
Cover the phrase and keep it in your locket
We're all on the floor, regretting the week
With no shame on top or beneath the sheets
Youth funeral, yeah! send me a wreath

The youth crews back

Met the young girl that I'd seen on defamer
Couldn't talk like sex, no talk like Kramer
If you wanna check me, baby I'm easy hahaha
Your a cute lil-styler with a half-eaten writer
Cut off your fitted cap, take your power like Sylar
I run out the clock, report it to the myzer
Rhyme wise lifer with a bullet-ridden bedpost
Nose to the grindstone, dig em till your mind's blown
Throw in the fuse
The girls got loose on fructose juice
At the hop out like halo, it taste just like salo
The time that I speak will track 9 of this album
Club goers prouder than a nose knows talcum
I still rock the arrows like the riddler
Wasted kids still sneaking into the club

The youth crews back

Lyrics submitted by temp1444

"In Search of the Youth Crew" as written by Roland Pemberton


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In Search Of The Youth Crew song meanings
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  • +1
    General CommentYes. So good, hip hop to the dance floor, love it.

    It's not "it taste just like salo" its "TAKE SHOTS LIKE SALO" as in the Oiler's goalie Tommy Salo, Cadence is an edmonton boy. Alberta represent!
    bergcageon April 19, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General Commentthx cuz
    temp1444on May 21, 2008   Link
  • 0
    Song MeaningI have a feeling this song is just a recollection of someone's summer (probably Rollie's, but you never know...). He had his "crew" and all of these memories like of girls and his old barber shop or whatever... And the part at the end is sort of like another memory that kind of relates to his past.
    fothion April 08, 2009   Link
  • 0
    Lyric CorrectionI remember that summer, up in the crib||
    Just like Adam with the missing rib||
    The cocaine kids, where they used to live||
    The hairdresser used to talk, yeah, real, real glib||
    But I got a grapevine, heard he's going into fits||
    The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind||
    Of how the dumb monkeys got gorilla in the midst||
    Of a struggle via fist for a slice and a 5th||
    Back then, I didn't used to rip shows||
    I'd brodown quick, no shit, sherlock||
    Nerd hop, no never, I'd never talk shop||
    I'd only talk drop, like drop your drink||
    Drop your pants, drop your plans||
    Drop your friends, drop your hand||
    Drop and link, pop and lock||
    For a young have-not, we used to grab props||
    And stunts like Bruce Willis, whatcha talkin' 'bout?!||

    [Chorus x8]
    The youth crew's back

    Silent summers disagreed about||
    I got hammers in the wrist in the line of gout||
    I miss those kids with the rubber headbands||
    And deadpan comedy clothespinned to their dresses||
    No spins, just presses, preferably full courtship||
    More skin contortioned, I'm not very sharp||
    But I'll dull importance if you're down for a lark||
    Oh, you know me? Oh, you know about Sharks?||
    You're so referential, let's party at the Shark, Tank||
    Green to the scene, hardly even started||
    Hip-hop hipsters, dearly departed||
    Cover the phrase and keep in your locket||
    We're all on the floor, regretting the week||
    With no shame on top or beneath the sheets||
    Youth funeral, yeah, send me a wreath||

    [Chorus x8]


    Met the young girl that I seen on Defamer||
    Told her talk like sex? No, talk like Kramer||
    "If you wanna check me||
    Baby, I'm easy"||
    You're a cute little styler with half-eaten rider||
    Cut off your fitted cap, take your power like Sylar||
    I run out the clock, report to the mizer||
    Rhymewise, I'm a lifer, with a bullet-ridden bedpost||
    Nose to the grind stone, dig until your mind's blown||
    Throne abuse, the girls got loose on fructose juice||
    At the hop ala Halo, take shots like Salo||
    At the time I was speaking with track 9 on this album||
    Clubgoers powder their nose, no talcum||
    I still rock the Ayres like the Rub||
    Wish the kids would still sneak into the club||

    [Chorus x16]
    fattonyrapon August 06, 2010   Link

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