Lyrics

Man, seems like it was yesterday mobbin through Woodway blowing a blunt like I had nothin left to say. It was dog wood street blowin blunts with the homies everyday more than once. Didn’t matter if it was the bammer weed I still remember throwing dueces to the tree Albert blowin em.

It was back 2011 we were chillin it was cool.
Kickin with McDaniel and the homie bonya who was the dude slangin roots.
Woodway high school was unstoppable running from Fred gooker was inevitable.
Bonya me and Anthony running shit hard like it was another day meant to be. Edmonds PD, please it was my daddy’s sgt Cameron come get me.
We were bangin liners out the 95 Buick. Once school was out hell you already knew it. Bonya on the corner flippin packs as if he knew it throwin middle fingers in the rear view passin 711 on 212th cops behind while we were bumping Gucci like screw you.

If you had a bad day then holler at Ben Richards that dude will you chill real soon but he’s gotta go home to his moms up there on sea view.

Stoggy D in the back in that 350z with the tree. Passing clouds of smoke gotta kam don’t ya think G?

Mobin into Perrinville bout to scoop Reeve for 4 DP.
What’s that up there burning. Oh shee that’s the abandon old house burning like its chief keef. Wonder who did it because it definitely was wicker believe me I was working at the Qfc with BC it was all Kenny. I swear it. Wrote it on all my statements or anywhere that saw it. My brothas meet Jake d at the wharf I heard he was stuck in it.
Drifting the WRX as we pulled up. So many crazy stories I swear I threw up. This is my crew we earned it, what’s that engine hummin what is it? Oh shoot that’s the homie stacks too. Popped a bottle of triple Cs his nose on sum too.

This is the crew we burned it wicker sleep in in the Buick he must of kermed it.

Fast forward 12 years looking back on the things we did. Bro we did good and bad but you had to earn it. Gold is the damn future and we learned it.

Now the crew is spilt up in USA nationally. Zack Donald flying jet blue internationally,
Richard’s is gone too living in LA in the same damn bad mood like he has to be, Jake’s over in Manson doing god knows what like it’s always catastrophe,
Now I’m sittin here in my wicker wasteland quite happily knowing that my homie Anthony is just zoom draining down the street,
You already know Reeve doing anything to climb to the top without catastrophe. Shee look back at the stuff we did rev ain’t that something it must of had to Be.
Check out the homie bonya he’s locked down for the season. Now I’m sitting in my Jag barely breathing all this money got us cheesi. We’re the bread gang you better know we only win.
From the bottom to the top bread gang about to pop