Memories - Slick Rick

Yeah, know what I mean Rick?

Know what I mean Rick?

Know what I mean Slick, Whoa!

Yeah, wee!

Fine, grown Pine-Sol, heavenly rhyme throne

Remember when you were young in the '70 time zone?

Stages, age is 'bout seven, I say, kids

The dress code of our parents looked awfully outrageous

Not down on 'em, games and clownin'

When soul was at its highest rate like James Brown and them

Soothin' every black thing, a groovy era actin'

'Member seein' Shaft in the movie theater back then?

I feel Richard Roundtree got 'em a fly deal

Black men wearin' bell bottom and high heels

Laughed a lot, some action, mass production

Remember when cars were darn near half a block long?

Parents were so into that crap

Bunch of sweet memories to us older rap cats

Muhammad Ali knucklin' in tournament

Pimp daddy hats with buckles and ornaments

How we forget Snappy?

Five people sleepin' in one mattress and yet happy

Could even make sex seem sour

As I impress the world with my extreme power

'Cause Rick make memories sealed in almanacs

Not to mention the immense appeal the mack had

When you wake up in the mornin' (redeem from any crap)

Because I bring that lovin' feelin' back to rap

For situated as poor beneficialator

Kool-Aid couldn’t last a hot minute in the refrigerator

School notes, slidin' and stealin', hidin 'em

Bazooka, bubble gum cartoons still inside of 'em

No way, same essence of it’s earned paper

Pimps flyest dressin' muthafuckas, weren’t they?

But hood lies, you afraid of a good wine?

I used to love the actor who portrayed one on Good Times

You need a friend to warn a soul, man, it kinda slow

One thing 'bout it bro, overflow when it’s kinda so (shame)

Life, a pitiful game

'Member the robot?

That was my shit on Soul Train

Got hyped too, psyched too and the feelin’s right too

Chillin' on the fire escape on a nice night, too

No one gone try hurt di mon

Remember Right On, Blood and Jive Turkey slang?

Brothers chippin' in for alcoholic money

When you look at old flicks don’t we all look funny?

Yo' mama, damn, we used to talk improper then

'Member when we used to walk bop, walk bop again?

Givin' them the rhythm that we brought

Push our hand back like we was swimmin' when we walked

Bad all about, Huggie Bear, Rat all about

'Member afros, what the fuck was that all about?

Buenos noches accents too, friends too

Everybody had a lot of roaches back then, too

Profusely around us, Lucy Afarensis

Fleets wearing Bruce Lee Bananas

And kick shit, ball in the hand and stick with

And we use to be in some of the «Man, you in deep shit»

Most cases, father away for good

Local Flat Foot was part-of the neighborhood

Standard, and the panthers (Wow)

Used to dress like Erykah Badu and Amanda’s now