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I Remember Back

Flee Lord
Popularity ยท Low
๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง English ยท Original

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Lyrics

Yeah Memories Okay I'm up before the sunrise, sick off the porch, I chose to jump off Mission, hit the back of the school to hit my jump off Amazed how the homies hit corners, jump out the dump off Everyday was bumping my head, couldn't get the lump off Hit my brother stash, tryna come up on a pack Double that, take it back and try to come up on a sack All I know is run the streets, like I came up on the track If they ain't let me through the front Know I was coming through the back Leader so I advise 'em, they ain't gon' compromise 'em Codes, I emphasize 'em, pressure if someone tries us Mission, I'm out to ride, I'm stolo, I enterprise 'em Twelve come, we hop out, beefy, no socializing I was taught if it wasn't street, it wasn't real I was taught don't try to come eat what you don't kill Rule one, only get paid if you don't sleep Years later, still the same, I'm out grinding as we speak I remember back Watching niggas in the hood running up a sack Either hustling or finessing just to get a pack Move wrong, someone get you, ain't no coming back Thank God for my memories Not everything was cool Either solid or you grimy when you play the rules In the ghetto, we mechanics how we play with tools Twelve come, lay low 'til it's safe to move Thank God for my memories I grew up little pack runner Saving for some kicks on the strip for like half summers OG had it locked, they was giving us cash Skip school, hit the hood and they was whipping your ass Used to pack up bags and play video games Now I bag up slabs and sit ten in your frame My ears to the street, my soul in the ghetto I love it, but I don't trust it, so I roll with a medal When I was fifteen, I was living my dream Put the work inside my shirt and I deliver it clean Yeah, the older niggas love me, young niggas respect me You need that work bag, flee, I'm coming with a hefty Nigga who gon' check me, I done been through some shit I play the crib with twin MACs with identical clips My guys behind the wall, I been sending 'em gifts And when Frenchie do his part, Trae, I'm sending you this I remember back Watching niggas in the hood running up a sack Either hustling or finessing just to get a pack Move wrong, someone get you, ain't no coming back Thank God for my memories Not everything was cool Either solid or you grimy when you play the rules In the ghetto, we mechanics how we play with tools Twelve come, lay low 'til it's safe to move Thank God for my memories