Missing You

[Intro: Buddha Monk] Another Frank B. production, huh? I miss them days... oh, oh, oh, oh, you know what? I miss them days, days I miss them days, days [Buddha Monk] I remember them days, where everyone used to play Had to sit in my window and watch them play It was one of them hot days, where you can sit, and watch girls legs But mom didn't play, she had me doing grown men things Michael, Mums and Marvin, too Those were my dogs from 1-7-0, New York Avenue We used to, run down the halls, knock on people's doors Run down the stairs when they opened up they doors Get a dollar fifty, head to the Chinese store Get three fifty cent rices with lots of duck sauce Play back tag, your it, ain't that a bitch? Went and got quarters, who didn't play, didn't snitch Ma, throw down some money, the ice cream man is coming Loved banana splits, where my ice cream kept running I miss those days, I treasure those days If I could do it all again, I wouldn't change a thing [Chorus: Mr. Tibbs] I'm really missing you... I'm not a kid anymore... I'm really missing you... Son, speak ya mind... I'm really missing you... I'm not a kid anymore... I'm really missing you... [Buddha Monk] It was the life of Levi jeans and name plate rings All Day I Dream About Sex was the thing At three o'clock, it was Run-Run Sharp A soda and a hero, watching who got killed, dog After that, we run all back outside Trying backflips, playing good and bad guys Matchbox cars, flipping baseball cards Scouting we cadets, and believing in God Who can forget Mr. Spacey, who gave me my first job Selling beef patties to Tracey and Rob He told me, rush heavy, love life, if I can do that Then why he wouldn't teach me how to touch a girl right That's why I love hanging with the older gods They taught me love, honor, respect, any woman that's mine If I could turn back the clocks, just one more time I wouldn't change nothing, just have fun times [Chorus] [Buddha Monk] As we get a little older, yeah things do change The life of a thug cat, with a plan for big things Fam ain't ya fam, homies ain't ya homies Your girl ain't ya girl, she be sleeping with Tony Watch the news, Bin Ladin blew the World Trade Flags are everywhere, yeah we live another day Gas is high just like acid's high You gotta run down on it, nigga, just to get by Drop top Benz, suburban in the wind White wall tires with them twenty inch rims I miss those days, I love those days If I could it all again, I wouldn't change a thing [Chorus]