[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9”] Nothing compared to our family trips, My uncle shook hands with a manly grip, All this hand-me-down-shit, I had had an uncanny fit, All the gangstas I had in my family had me anti-bitch, My granddaddy mistress caught the business from my granny fist, That was back ‘fore I was born, Pop told stories 'bout it that would last for hours-long, And as a family, we was just so happy When him and mama got along on the Boblo boat. Uh, on our way to that black amusement park, Wood rollercoasters, crack sold on plastic scooter cars, Uh, smokin' grass at the vintage food court, Broken glass waitin' on you on the swimming pool floor, I came across my identity on the Boblo boat, That's where I lost my virginity, no condom, though, That's when paranoia hit me like when superstition does, Left my inhibitions I guess where my supervision was. Parties on the way to the island would be the livest, though, First time big bro hit the bottle was on the Boblo boat, But neither one of us knew that we would both Grow up and turn to alcoholics, though, the Boblo boat. Hey, hey, hey, lil' Craig, come here. Aye, hit this, nigga! Nigga, don't worry 'bout what the fuck it is, just drink! [Bridge: J. Cole] Yeah, yeah! Some of my better times, I shared with you, I shared with you, yeah. Shit! All of my better days, I shared with you. I shared with you. Shit! And now I gotta wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up. Shit! Stuck inside a rat race, Rat race. Fuck. Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up again, Stuck inside this rat race. Yeah, look [Verse 2: J. Cole] Twist the cap, lift the bottle back, swig it, Dig it, ten-inch rims on my mama's Civic, Ten-inch woofers in the trunk, to be specific, They bump, rattle the license plate, plus the windows tinted. Don't even give a fuck that it's dented, bitch, I'm the man now, I'm rollin', drivin' it slow as if it's stolen, Pilin' up bros like we was clothing on a dresser, Callin' up hoes like we was Jodeci, let's check her! Double D's like double-deckers, I wanna sex her, But these keys don't come with game on how to finesse her, Five semesters left until college, I'm under pressure, I'm not a real nigga 'til I undress her, I gotta ‘press her. This was my main concern back when concerns were lesser, Nowadays I often yearn to press the Backspace button or hit Return but life is not no word processor, Most folks would burn the sess to burn the stress of, My real life trauma plus fickle niggas thinkin' they done heard the best of Jermaine Lamarr but that's insane, it couldn't be further left of The truth is that my new shit slap, you never heard it better, Give me a sec, I murder sectors, prefer to let ya See it rather than say it, but it spill out, I gotta chill out, Say “Fuck the world”, and never pull out. We had no Bob-Lo boat but I could note Those times is like a Bible quote, BC, before cellphones, the first time I would smoke I was six years old, but that's for another chapter, That's for another story, to God be the glory, I made it out unscathed and now I sunbathe With my son in Tanzanian sunrays thinkin' 'bout them days Thinkin' 'bout them days.
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