Bo Jackson Jersey

(album: The Weeklys, Vol. 3 - 2019)

Yeah, man
I remember being real young
Just a young 14-year-old kid
Throw on my Vans and my Bo Jackson jersey
The block smoking, I hope the Lord has some mercy
These California corners are coroners, you get toe tagged, you heard me?
The four blast, you won't last in surgery
Shit, think of the kids when I stroll past the nursery
Why they gotta grow up just to see somebody show up?
Shoot they bro up in broad day
No mask, just served it (My Brother Dizz made this)
You made it to your twenties, probably won't last to thirty
We thugging, we nowhere near peace
Devil speaking to us without the wireless earpiece
Telling us not to fear beef
I'm laying on Jay's car, Jay is banging some Gang Starr
Bet you never saw Crips C-Walking to Premier beats
Walk into the house, see my cousin on the couch
Pull a cartridge out a jammed hammer for ammo
My brother got a can of Vano starching his bandana
Arguing with Orlando from Santana Block about last night's Laker game
Now Orlando's dead and it ain't the same
Damn, why they take you, mane?
I take a shot of Black Cherry Cisco so I could take the pain and swallow the whole bottle
Fuck it, it's ghetto Gatorade
That's for Orlando, he was solid as hell
I got some homies that went to college as well
I got some homies that joined the FOI seeking knowledge of self
Said we had problems, that Allah could help
Like obituaries all on our shelf
Damn, my friends getting merked up
Looked out the window, I seen little Bobby skirting up
Driving a Cluckers work truck, gun up under his shirt, tucked
Said he ready to kill, my nigga turnt up

Yeah, I remember it like it was yesterday and shit
Nigga was so hot that he got Orlando
He was ready to kill everything moving
Shoot low or hit 'em high, you know?
Shit crazy, man
Shit crazy

Life was simple before I got my first hundred racks
We was young and black, kids flipping on a couple mats
No one hustled crack, shit, we was watching Thundercats
No one busting gats then piecing up on Jumbo Jacks at Jack in the Crack
Pour sauce on the fake tacos
We ate nachos, cheese drip on my gray Lotto
As time passed, shit got deeper than Lake Tahoe
We put enough weight in the street to create potholes
Death told us early retirement's a requirement
But I ain't buying it 'cause my mind'll just think outside of this violent environment
I'm inspired in spite of it
My dreams so big, I could fit yours inside of it
Might have lived terribly but now I'm seeking clarity
Giving back to charity 'cause charity's my therapy
You rappers all parodies, repeating like some parakeets
My bars harder than tar, time to repair the streets

Yeah, it's time to take the streets back, you know?
Now I don't like this energy I'm feeling out here
Niggas ain't telling the whole story, just half of it
Glorifying the shit
We got homeboys dead, homeboys locked up for life
Time to take back the streets with this rap shit
Nah'mean?

I got the Horseshoe in here
Sauce the Boss in here
You know what I mean? Family Bvsiness
Shoutout Kyle, what's happening, man?
Salt Lake City, what up?
All my worldwide C-O-Bs, what up my COB?
I see all y'all motherfuckers next week
My nigga Dizz
My nigga Dizz
Hahahahaha
Classic
Ayy yo, Nate, let's get out of here