text: I met you in a club in Atlanta, Georgia
  Said me and my homeboy were coming out with an album
  You looked at me like, Yeah, nigga, right
  But you gave me your number anyway, you were on the talcum
  Powder—hows about them oranges?
  Moved away from home to school with big plans
  By day, studied the history of music
  By night, just to pay for that shit, youd dance
  To get your pants was a Mission Impo–ssible
  We were both the same age, but I
  Suppose, wasnt on the same page, but in
  The same book of life, so Id page you when
  I felt you that were getting off of work
  Or either when youre on your way to school
  We started hanging like Ernie and Bert
  And in my idle head Im thinking, Cool
  Just when I think Im going down your shirt
  Youre hiking up your skirt now
  The events that followed had me volley
  If your hometown would be heaven or hell
  The angelic nastiness you possessed made you by far the best
  Therefore, hard to tell
  Youd drop me off by the Dungeon
  Never came in, but I knew that you were wondering
  Now, are these niggas in this house up to something?
  Selling crack, sack by sack, so they could function?
  W-W-Well, yes and no
  Yes, we were selling it, but no, it wasnt blow
  Cook it in the basement then move it at a show
  Then grab the microphone and everybody yelled, Ho!
  Meanwhile, the video starts playing
  BET, college radio, and a van
  Packed full of niggas with a blunt in their hand
  And one in their ear, you know what Im saying, but
  I kept your number in my old phone
  Got a new chip-flip with the roam-roam
  So it took me a minute to retrieve seven digits
  But I promised I would call you when I got home, but
  When I got home, I never did
  By the time I did, heard that youd had a kid
  By some nigga in Decatur who replied, See you later
  When he got the good news; thats life, shit
  Now, Im nineteen with a Cadillac
  My nigga had a Lex with the gold pack
  Got a plaque, but Im living with my pop-pop
  So I got a Glock and a LoJack
  Yeah, kinda fast for that fella in class who used to draw
  And never said much, cause half of what he saw
  Was so far from that place you wanna be
  That words only fucked it up more, follow me
  Are you starting to gather what Im getting at?
  Now if Im losing you, tell me, then Ill double back
  But keep in mind, at the time, keep it real was the phrase
  Silly when said now, but those were the days
  When Spring Break and Daytona and Freakniks
  Made you wanna drop out of college and never go back
  Move to the South, but that aint a Kodak
  Moment, on went myself and Big Bo—
  Well, you knew hm as Twan
  Thats right, you were around before this shit begun
  Well Twan had a daughter and
  Sorta was made to mature before the first tour
  We hit the road like Jack
  Laughed and cried and drive it back with some Yak
  Girls used to say, Yall talk funny, yall from the islands?
  And Id laugh, and theyd just keep smiling
  No, Im from Atlanta, baby, he from Savannah, maybe
  We should hook up and get tore up and then lay down; hey, we
  Gotta go because the bus is pulling out in thirty minutes
  Shes playing tennis, disturbing the tenants
  15-Love, fit like glove
  Description is like fifteen doves
  In a jacuzzi catching the Holy Ghost
  Making one woozy in the head and comatose—agree?
  Enough about me, hows about you? Hows the lil kid?
  She was about two the last time we spoke
  I hadnt smoked or took a shot of drink
  Cause Id start the second album off on another note
  Now, that note threw some niggas in the hood off
  But see, Id balled out, and fore Id fall out
  Id slow my Lac down to a nice speed
  The brain was that fried egg, I might need
  New direction was apparent
  I was a child looking at the floor, staring
  So changing my style was like relief for the primitive beast
  Yes, I was on the rise, yeast was the street
  To make bread, never primary concern
  Just to hop on these beats and wait my turn
  Id meet Muslims, gangstas, bitches, rastas
  And macaroni niggas: impastas
  So on a trip to New York on some beeswax
  I get invited to a club where emcees at
  And on stage is a singer with some thing on her head
  Similar to the turban that I covered up my dreads with
  Which I was rocking at the time
  When I was going through them phases trying to find
  Anything that seemed real in the world
  Still searching, but I started liking this girl
  Now, you know her as Erykah On & On Badu
  Call Tyrone on the phone, Why you
  Do that girl like that, boy? You ought to be ashamed
  The song wasnt about me, and that aint my name
  Were young, in love, in short we had fun
  No regrets, no abortion, had a son
  By the name of Seven
  And hes five; by the time I do this mix, hell probably be six
  You do the rithmetic, me do the language arts
  Yall stand against the wall blindfolded, we throw the darts
  To poke you in the heart and take you from the start
  To when luxury transportation meant a MARTA card
  Or either when your girlfriend that went to Mays
  Mama or her daddy let her borrow the Benz, because she smart
  Or maybe if your neighbor does you a huge favor
  And he sells you that Rabbit thats been sitting in his yard
  You fix it up, you trick it out
  You give it rims, you give it bump
  You give it all your time because thats all you can think about
  And thats as far as I got
  And thats as far as I got, and where I wanted to go, knowing, the whole summer, thats all you could think about. Even though if you cut it off and start that bitch up, you need a jump, like you need and you want to grow, and you change all the time. So that Rabbit that you thought about that whole summer—the next summer, you didnt want that Rabbit no more. You wanted something bigger and better.
  So the summer passed and now the Rabbits old?
  Right... right, so now you want a Cadillac...