memories, when i was eight years old
neighbourhood filled with rich people
except us, parking lots packed with lambos
on tv, they showed rambo, my fatherfigure
cause i ain't never had one, he abandoned
the family early and found himself a new one
never did he show remorse, faith was a strange word
and when i visited my father, i felt strange there
like this strange word, believe me friend, i did fight
banging innerly, bloodpressure 180, kids gangs and spray cans
until i caught a psychosis, without even realizing
songs of my shadows, and i grew myself a plumage, like birds
when i flew out of the window, and didn't notice the danger
third floor, big shock, well ---
but not one broken bone, yeah: tizzop's angel had spoken;
and i fell in love with a girl, summer holiday *** and some ****
soon, i was looking for god, and prayed without hands, in my head,
in my dreams and the soul, i was spraying on walls, didn't know boundaries
so the cuffs were clicking, so my luck had to line up
and i scratched lyrics into the walls of this dump they call joint
finally became a tree with branches, wrote new raps every night
working out like crazy, punched my hands into walls
just like oldboy, then i became steel, endlessly tough
as my lucky number, this eight
tizzops became more popular, but never an other
For My Frippin' Memories
