Old car. Old friends. I’m not sure which I miss more. The ride is different now. But I still leave room.
The Cutlass isn’t real. But I’ve driven it every night this week. Same music. Same laugh from the back seat. Same question in the rearview: Where’d everybody go?
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
I don’t touch the radio. It knows what to play. Even silence has a soundtrack when the ghosts know the route.
I’m not chasing a destination. Just driving through versions of myself. Sometimes I look at the city like a memory. Sometimes it looks back
…
Two-tone Cutlass I’m in the cut, cutting up Two of my friends brothers with me So you know what we on
Family matters I don’t wanna learn that when we old While we mobile, I’m tryna get it on the road Roll with me, know with me — it’s real when it gets told
Walk with me, talk with me — there’s things you need to know Ball with me, fall with me — that’s how we gonna grow So if you down, I’ma pick you up swiftly up off the floor
We all eating — we don’t need reservations You can reach me — no need for hesitation No explanations needed We used to be weeded
I don’t smoke no more But I got heat if you need it When it’s cold in summertime and life ain’t easy Or when it’s wintertime and my wife getting heated
‘Cause I’m up on bullshit I need someone to speak with — even if they disagree with What I’m doing If I don’t got good friends to correct me
Just ’cause he a yes man don’t mean he respect me I need someone legit to kick it with when things get messy Someone to express to — who ain’t tryna impress me Or tryna expose me — ’cause you already know me
We can be on the phone and you gon’ know I’m being phony How all these people around and I’m feeling lonely? It’s so much of me that I ain’t comfortable showing Like a fat kid at the beach — I got my guard up
But when I’m drowning in sorrow, who gon’ jump up in the water? Or who gon’ be there for my daughter? If I get caught up by the law and she don’t got a fucking father If we ain’t there for our brothers, who gon’ bother?
I don’t want you around snakes without a gardener To cut grass low when the weeds get thick Let’s freeze this for a minute — we need a pic Something we can look back on
So if we ever fall off, then we know we can get back on I ain’t tryna make a sad song This just a real-ass rap Something that we can look back on So if we ever fall off, we know we getting back on
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.