I met this boy, when I was eight years old
And what I loved most was the stories he told
He was old school, before I was even born
Never knew throughout my life I’ld miss him and mourn
On the regular, discussed oppression and stupid pigs
Not about the money, it was deep, his love I dig
But I respected him, he hit me in the heart
A few LA girls he had boned in the dark
But he was there for me, without sex he took me to ecstasy
He would come through and then, looked into my eyes when
We just cooled out, and I listened to his voice
Sitting on a chair, he ran his hands through my hair
Evidently we were meant to be, he was made for me
Because we related physically and mentally
And he was fun, but he stopped coming around
Nothing pops though, hip hop is no where to be found
Original, pure beautiful and down music
Boy I tell ya, I miss it

I used to love him...
I used to love him...