Sweet Memories

Mak Nikova (Verse 1) Exhale got stories to tell Ridin with some people that could put me in jail All good cause I wanted to sell And I let the breeze hit it cause she love me so well Woop...Felt the bass in my fingernails They told me freestyle Mak, no pasta Tryna eat like Garfield with lasagna Extra cheese extra beats no problem Worked all summer just to find some peace Found out I wasn't supposed to be in these streets That's when I looked around and saw the streets in me Left behind drama now I can chill with the heat My only problem now is avoiding police Escape routes turn into movies and dreams Lets meditate now and escape the scenes Put down the thuggin and try to be clean Prayed so hard that I ripped my jeans A puddle on concrete that made me bleed But what do you know, it grew a rose Poetic Thoughts that saved my soul Mak Nikova (Hook) Can't let go when I get the flow Get the flow, got the flow (Bringing back sweet memories) Up shits creek now watch me row Watch me row (Bringing back sweet memories) Mak Nikova (Verse 2) Quit actin' low, and shaky like the bass Remember them times I put a smile on your face So many frowns you faked, actin like you hate That I pushed you away and that made you wait You changed a lot, I became a thought Of what you wanted for another man, they never can Remember that time that I held your hand And your other one was acting like a fan Sweet Memories, like many Halloweens Use to go with fro wigs now I got one G Just a city kid tryna find some treats But everyday they stereotyped me a beast Can't find my money thinkin you don't love me Then I use to get mad like why would you judge Kept them thoughts to turn'em into funds Got my savings like I brought my lunch Well it wasn't love when I discovered that Became a cupid to make it a rap They say I'm this, I pray I'm that I turn rhyme books into art of facts Legend with a pen/ Let the story begin with the lessons in Use to feel my words as the letters bend Waiting for the club now they let us in Metaphors for the girls of course Cause they know how I write with no remorse The fellas looking at me like Chuck Norris A Bruce Lee Stan so I understand I love lettin em think think they got the upperhand I go back to the tracks and I run my plan Just so you can say yo that's my jam Even with no bread, don't be scared Feel it in your soul let it move your head Sometimes I get tired of being compared So I might change how I land on snares Looking at beats like a landing pad Man I miss the beach not for the fad Mak Nikova (Hook)