Caleborate]
I miss the old days
Playstation, Vice City
Bike riding
Orange cassette tape
Happy Meal eating slow days
Way before tuition checks
Before I needed row game
Before I needed weed or alcohol to get the hoes man
Before everybody rapped and made they own clothes
Before they raised the rent and kicked us all out of our homes
Uh, this for my niggas that hold me down like a team
'Cause fake shit fades like washing out old jeans
Ah, I know you gotta love this shit
Ain't got a deal, but use my niggas as my publisher
All that bull that they gon throw
Man, I'm above that shit
I been on my job
Oh wait, you already knew that
Ok, I brought my flow back
This underground like lojack
But soon to be above the rim
And shining like a Kodak
I push my aunty whip, when she get sick, to see a bitch
And pray that granny ain't looking at me, in a fit, finna tell jesus
You could smite his ass down if you want to
He actin' like a fool
Wanna rap before he go to school
Well I prefer writing raps before taking those two
And turning papers in is not gon get my niggas paid
Uh, please know that I know where home is
But going from home to home can
Kinda make you feel homeless, and soulless
Broken home make me feel unwanted
But Berkeley helped me closer
Gave me lessons I can't forfeit