YTCracker on the microphone
Check it, check it

My name is ytcracker and my story is a simple one
I'll tell what was online back when splatters son
The only kids who ran game
Hung out in private room, lame
Oh, how wish it was the same

Back in '97 I was just a little maverick
Came on from IRC into a private room called #havoc
From there I met a few cats, that said they liked to hack
And they called it punting, and I called it whack

But in every method, was a method still
I had a lot of phish but no AOL bill
Sabotage had us happy, but I was sadly lacking
A TCP connection to keep on cracking

So I stole some ELN's and wrote them down with a pin
For every phish I had, I got another ten
And here I sit with my oh-so-happy grin
Things will never be the same as they were again

Back when young there was a guy named Skate
He didn't write sudo's and he didn't write fate (X)
Regardless of what he didn't do, he made us grab our dreams
Because money had our pockets busting at the seams
When you loaded sub-spam in a private room
A million others loaded and they sang the same tune
I'm an icon of spam, I spam for cash
Seeing so much green you think it was an episode of M*A*S*H

Back then you could spam all you wanted
"Fuck you AOL", to spammers, we taunted
There was no rate limits and no gay goodbyes
A fat wad of cash by your bedside

But now things have changed, its hard to make skrill
It's hard to make a dollar, let alone make a mill
People always saying porn is a sin
Things will never be the same as they were again

Seems like only days ago we was cracking strings
Making guides and hosts and all those AOL things
Restricted was the word, gagging lamers getting curved
Disco swerved on overheard for sure

If you took your shit-talking too far, fool
I just loaded up a forum on the star tool
I played text screens, Lawson's getting reamed
With the ToS requests that I beam

To they box, couldn't take shots from the German cops
Always double-you, always resetting you
You always run on high-g when I bypass SecurID
Go Chris, grab you real by the balls, see
Back then, no one talk shit
AO-hoes dropped the AO-flows and my cock ticks
I wouldn't give an AO-ho shit in real life
On the phone you good for one night (one night)

Now chat commands rule the mouse land
And all the fat macros went straight into the garbage can
I got fans, songs to Eminem's Stan
Fame is to me what rice is to Japan

I've been here since today
I'll never go away
I swing a big dick like I was Luther Lufay
I'm the one I am and I'm anti on your weapon spray

People used to go on icks just to parlay
Used to brag about the ints I had
Just to see if it would make you mad
But now I brag about all the cheese I got
Educators the set homey, never get caught
What homey what?