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tba (chicago) - memories. lyrics

[intro]
memories, memories, memories
all the memories, memories, all the memories, they come in

[verse 1]
1999, the king was born, it’s getting treacherous
mama always working, family income never generous
father sacrifice, he blew an m to be adventurous
now we in the ‘burbs, sh+t ain’t sweet, our pockets delicate
pressed up in dashiki’s, praising god to fill the deficit
commas come and then they blow away, they never definite
first to come, my parents; ain’t no sh+t, that’s really evident
traces of my roots, they follow suit, i see the evidence
fourscore, ’bout like fifteen years
i’m with my peers, tryna fit in, but my eyes full of fears
i put that helmet on my head, it got me dizzy and sh+t
a new direction with my life, it got me feeling this sh+t
i heard the hut, then hit that a+gap
swore my parents hate that
“where the f+ck them a’s at?
you flunking, where your brain at?”
thinking bout the millies that i lost because i’m 5’9 or too slow
f+ck a man like who knows
sh+t, let’s go

[chorus]
n+gga, wake the f+ck up
crunching all these numbers got me counting my days
my 24 about these three, i always study these plays
i see my flaws, i f+ck around, i always fall on my face
my parents blowing all this money, but i never would play
i blew my knes, so now i’m blown out
whip just had a blowout
ego looking low now
mama told me slow down
party every day, suppress the feelings, hope they won’t now
they never gone, you dumb as h+ll, your soul is lost (alright, chill out, chill out, chill out)
[verse 2]
soul is lost like a son of a b+st+rd
going ghost like i’m chilling with casper
praise dance like they claiming they kappa
first team, but i thought that comes after
after i learned that i wasn’t as good as i thought
it’s back to the drawing board
like a big back going i+form, hit the 3+4; now we gon’ score
that’s cap, i was too big to run back
but now i’m doing drills on hills
not really physical, i had to talk to the princ+p+l
told me my efforts are minimal
“n+gga, you dumb, n+gga, you trash”
so i got good grades and a cash
middle finger up, stick it to the past
no hard feelings come when i’m thinking about those

[outro]
alright, you need to make sure you keep your head in the book (oh my god)
don’t be running around with all these girls (i’m not, i’m not)
all this stuff, you need to be home at nine o’clock
you cannot be playing the video game at night
you cannot be hanging out with friends at night on their school nights (oh my god, you’re not serious)
get your stuff together
you’re acting stupid, you’re acting foolish
get it together

- tba chicago lyrics

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