Memory Serves Me
Memory Serves Me
Verse 1:
Born alone die alone's what the motto is,
lived up to every word, overly proud of it,
but knowing there's tag teams when you get to the heart of it,
for all of us lucky enough to know where our fathers is,
our father who art in the living room cracking a brew,
know where I'm attached even when I'm attached to the stoop,
thinking I'm doing more than I am 'til you hand me the news,
like I know everything you that you on, I'm actually you,
I grew up outside just like the rest of us did, him included,
prayer hands up for all of the ways that I been influenced,
fully loaded, one stick for the crew, stick and moving,
14 in my pop's hands, hoping his grip will loosen,
But fuck if it didn't, he never would so I was good on a couple decisions,
remember so and so had pulled out a bucket to pitch in,
I fell back when I would normally jump in position,
regretted it til they put everyone under the prison,
That's like one of 100 times,
but feeling obligated to jump up in front the line,
stuck am I between a corner store and a blurried line
where the shootings' forever and the lobster is butterflied,
Stuck am I, down for whatever, nothing rides,
but knowing how the end of the movie is underlined,
and knowing my pop starred in that movie a couple times,
I already knew the script, what a surprise
Hook:
If memory serves me,
I remember wondering what all of that work be,
Posted on the same stoop like what the word be,
But someone was always standing behind me to curb me,
From off where that curb be,
If memory serves me,
Son I remember jumping off the stoop all thirsty,
But being taught that the corner won't ever deserve me,
And someone was always standing behind me to curb me,
From off where that curb be,
If memory serves me,
Verse 2:
I was born in Kings County, shooters beside me,
my son was born in the same hospital as Blue Ivy,
my father was 20, I was 35,
I'm still tryna measure up to the world he designed,
I'm in a world of a bind, like how worldly am I?,
to understand the corner store and the world it defines,
but comfy in Carnegie Hall like my world wasn't dire,
a world of broadway and a world of suppliers,
Bag a nickel bag of funk on the live '96 case,
and write a thesis on what you see and how the fix tastes,
stories that they sing when it hits and how it fixates,
my average through the roof but still grainy as mixtapes,
And po-9 see me the same as who standing next to me,
but knowing the drop due to my pop's how I get to be
giving you all the above as opposed to a sketch of me,
and all of the should've could've would'ves that I could've put up,
And now I look up, red cup pour down,
walls full of murals, shit my father tore down,
all of this was thought out, whether I was thinking or not,
somebody was thinking in case I ain't think out the box,
So stuck am I, down for whatever, nothing rides,
but knowing how the end of the movie is underlined,
and knowing my pop starred in that movie a couple times,
I already knew the script, what a surprise
Bridge:
My memory ain't fade yet,
I came up out the same door off the same steps,
In love with in the same allure
like what is we waiting for
'Til I'm gone know that I ain't change yet,
If memory serves me
