The memories we've got,
Like a fiend off the best rock
Showed your lil' ass look
That end of my childhood
Listen b, just give my stylist kudos
Memories, yeah, i hold em close,
I'm a 417 with a bulletproof vest
A childhood being depressed,
Off to work i go, back to this childhood
Adapt to being black, strapped and gang tats, look
Taking it back to to the same street from my childhood
Dear momma don't cry, your baby boy's doin good
I'm not the only one with these memories
I’m a beast when my shit hits the streets these niggas cease
One day she talked to us about our younger childhood
It's pain in my eyes but these yves saints blind you to look
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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