[Verse One:]    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 barbeques, 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 lifin shit  So step away with your fist fight ways  Motherfucker this ain't back in the days, but you don't hear me though    [Verse Two:]    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 ta 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    [Verse Three:]    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 jumpshot  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?  Everytime 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