Lyrics Memories - Slick Rick

Memories

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