Remember back in the days, we brewed on Tuesdays
stumblin’ thru the house like corn cob maze
Tappin’ keggies, honies had the low rise medleys
Drinkin’ Natty, motherf*****s was all friendly
Loungin at the neighbor’s stoop, drinkin brews
with the all your chicks and dudes, drinkin on the avenues
Turn the pages to two thousand eleven
Gotta go to work now, got two kids, 9 and 7
Call in sick, your boss gotta act like a d!ick
Cause real homebrewers don’t get paid for that ****
Tappin kegs to get lit, fall asleep in ur chair and wife have a fit
Waitin’ for life to ease up a bit
So we can stand up and get a grip
So get away with your grown up ways
Motherf****r this ain't back in the days
No more Forties Fridays for me
I gotta work ‘til three, a life care free is a mystery
I still see mother****s blog about it
But I stay seein’ bottles with the BMC labels on it
And I'd like to be done with this **** too
For the ignorant dudes wanna try to put-down microbrew
Instead of bud lights, they chugged some barleywines
passed out on their backs and
that's what the f**k happens
when you try to chug a high abv
Little brewskis with heat, wanna leave a dude layin in the street
And I ain’t comin to make sure they’re awake
They think they a connoisseur, but they a mother*****g fake
Back in the days, our buddies would take care of us
Look at em now, even they're confused, they’re garrulous
Callin the LBHS for help because they can’t find a special grain
Damn, **** done changed
If I wasn't playin the ‘real life’ game
by now, I'd probably be too wild to tame
Because you make your own life’s plot
Either you’re slingin’ bagged hops or you got wicked grain shop
