I remember oh so distinctly we were underage
Filled with adolescent rage our minds in a haze
We’d smoke weed to feed the image we portray
Without permission riding in my homies mother’s escalade
A group of young renegades; young black males in a daze
In those days we were bumping The Documentary
Or Thug Motivation – debating whether Game or Jeezy
Was gonna be the next nigga to really blow
Both their words had us acting like we were grown ups
Toting pistols and sipping on coronas bought by those that’s home-luss
Homeless vets who fought for the freedoms we abused
It’s funny how people get used and reused
We were headed for the same fate and hadn’t a clue
Of the path this road would take us, freestyling about Paper
The baddest bitches that would make up our daily routine
Jmoney, his brother, and I would rap about cars and green
We had never seen, slowly but surely becoming one with the machine
That gobbles up young minorities didn’t realize being stopped by authorities
Would wedge between the crew, we became distant, my boys and me
I got more into Tupac and B.I.G. as they were thrown into Juvie
The legends of the rap game played father and schooled me
Showed me the error of my ways and how the devil had fooled me
The crew never rekindled and all went their separate ways
But sometimes I still kick a rhyme as if I was in the back of that escalade
And I’ll sip a beer or two, perhaps light up a blunt or spliff
And wonder what life would be like, if that friendship did still exist
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