"Cruising down the river; dancing till your feet got numb; cool summer breezes blowing through your hair as you stood gazing down the river in anticipation of the thrill of the dizzying rides at the amusement park—ah, memories of Bob-Lo Island."
All is your world ain’t nothing but a squirrel tryna get a nut. Just jealous of everybody that’s headed out on that Bob-Lo boat. It is the perfect weather and the perfect time to enjoy a few snacks. Aw, man, I wish I was joining you—a little cheese and crackers, a little ghetto wine, a little rear medium lights, some hardy Rizla Green—but let’s do this, only on Smooth FM.
[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 Bob-Lo boat
Uh, on our way to that black amusement park
Wood rollercoasters, crack sold on plastic scooter cards
Uh, smoking grass at the vintage food court
Broken glass, waiting on you on the swimming pool floor
I came across my identity on the Bob-Lo 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 Bob-Lo boat
But neither one of us knew that we would both
Grow up and turn to alcoholics, though, the Bob-Lo boat
Hey, hey, hey, lil’ Craig, come here. Aye, hit this, nigga. Nigga, don’t worry ’bout what the fuck it is, just drink!
[J. Cole]
Yeah 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 (fuck)
Rat race (fuck, fuck)
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up again
Stuck inside this rat race (fuck)
Yeah, look
[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 rolling, driving it slow as if it’s stolen
Piling up bros like we was clothing on a dresser
Calling 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 thinking 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 cell phones, the first time I would smoke
I was 6-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 thinking ’bout them days
Thinking ’bout them days
This is; 808-Ray
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
