A couple of y'all ain't took a field trip to the hood
World on my shoulders as i run back to this my childhood
To mcs that don't rhyme good
I had a hard childhood,
One day she talked to us about our younger childhood
I moved you up to hills, out the ills of the ghetto hood
Fistful of wood, twisted for the good
Towards my young childhood
Well, i don't know, maybe you had some childhood trauma trip,
Sippin then call a cab nobody know their limit
Hold up yea we the best
A childhood being suppressed,
Lost my nigga over nothing though
6. stripped of my childhood this is all i know,
My childhood was full of bad memories
She don't suck nothing, buzzen, but she lick it nice
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