Remember back in the days, when niggaz had waves   Gazelle shades and corn braids   Pitchin' pennies, honies had the high top jellies   Shootin' Skelly, motherfuckers was all friendly      Loungin' at the barbecues, drinkin' brews   With the neighborhood crews, hangin' on the avenues   Turn your pagers to nineteen ninety three   Niggaz is gettin' smoked G, believe me      Talk slick, you get your neck slit quick   'Cause real street niggaz ain't havin' that shit   Totin' techs for rep, smokin' blunts in the project   Hallways, shootin' dice all day      Wait for niggaz to step up on some fightin' shit   We get hype and shit and start liftin' shit   So step away with your fist fight ways   Motherfucker, this ain't back in the days   But you don't hear me though      No more cocoa leave io, one two three   One two three, all of this to me is a mystery   I hear you motherfuckers talk about it   But I stay seein' bodies with the motherfuckin' chalk around it      And I'm down with the shit too   For the stupid motherfuckers wanna try to use Kung-Fu   Instead of a Mac-10 he tried scrappin'   Slugs in his back and that's what the fuck happens   When you sleep on the street      Little motherfuckers with heat want   To leave a nigga six feet deep   And we comin' to the wake   To make sure the cryin' and commotion   Ain't a motherfuckin' fake      Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us   Look at 'em now, they even fuckin' scared of us   Callin' the city for help because they can't maintain   Damn, shit done changed      If I wasn't in the rap game   I'd probably have a key knee deep in the crack game   Because the streets is a short stop   Either you're slingin' crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot      Shit, it's hard being young from the slums   Eatin' five cent gums, not knowin' where your meals comin' from   And now the shit's gettin' crazier and major   Kids younger than me, they got the Sky grand Pagers   Goin' outta town, blowin' up      Six months later all the dead bodies showin' up   It make me wanna grab the nine and the shottie   But I gotta go identify the body      Damn, what happened to the summertime cookouts?   Every time I turn around, a nigga gettin' took out   Shit, my momma got cancer in her breast   Don't ask me why I'm motherfuckin' stressed, things done changed