Memory Lane

 

Yo standin' on the corner near the park, rhyme-kicking,

hit 'em with rhythm, emcees get battered like fried chicken,

yeah Brothers down the road, fast like NASCAR too,

I'm chillin', spittin' rhymes with Malik and the Blackstarr crew,

on the block with my homies Damien and Dagen, yo,

I'm hangin' with Deshaun and Gerson, we're blastin' radios,

it's crazy though, how friends can change, ya keep talking,

still you drift between different lives like you're sleep-walking,

beaten often, I strike back like a boxer, flow's obnoxious,

why I kick with my friends on the corners, we rock shit,

we pop it like a Glock and hop in cockpits, you know why,

my neighborhood is working class, garbage trucks roll by,

picture this with closed eyes, maneuver right through the crowds,

a homeless man is pissin' right up on the side of my house,

later he's drinkin' beers on Opelousas, and his ass is broke,

still he's got a pack of smokes and kicks it, crackin' jokes,

but I know that through the fame I'll remember these names,

it takes me on a long journey straight through memory lane,

modest shotgun homes with cars swervin', on the curb and,

you hear marching bands down the road learnin' at Behrman,

the neighborhood ain't suburban but not urban, sick mixture,

and the rappers from the other side, man they spit sicker,

yo I'm kickin' it with smiles, different styles, man it's colder,

the jazz music and the styles that shape and form NOLA