(Royce Da 5'9" ft. J. Cole)

Cruising down the river
Dancing ’til 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 Boblo Island

Oh, is your world ain’t nothing but a squirrel tryna get a nut
Just jealous of everybody that’s headed out on that Boblo boat
It is the perfect weather and the perfect time to enjoy a few snacks
Oh, man. I wish I was joining you. A little cheese and crackers
A little get out wine. A little rear medium lights
Some Harvey Rizla green. But let’s do this. Only on Smooth FM

[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 roller coasters, 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 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’ green. Come here, hey, hit this, nigga
Nigga, don’t worry ’bout what the fuck it is. Just drink

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Some of my better times I said were true
I said were true, yeah
Shit, all of my better days I said were true
I said were true, shit

And now I gotta wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, shit
Stuck inside a rat race, f–k, rat race, fuck, fuck
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up again
Stuck inside this rat race, fuck
Yeah, look

[Verse 2 – J. Cole]
Twist the cap, lift the bottle back, swig it
Dick 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, bicth, 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 you 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 Boblo boat, but I could note those times is like a Bible quote
BC, before cellphones, 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 and Tanzanian sunrays thinking ’bout dumb days
Thinking ’bout dumb days

This is 808-Ray

Letra añadida por: Ron*AL*dinho

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