Yearbook Of The Block

’02, burned CDs in the backpack

Walkman skipping on the last track

Big tee, headband, throwback

Writing in the margins of my math pad

Cable on, videos in rotation

Durag tight, whole crew in formation

Payphone calls, “yo, you hear that joint?”

Dreams scribbled down, voice still unpolished

’08, sidekick flip, T9 texts

Myspace layouts, who got next

Blog links, leak hits, rush to the desk

Refresh, refresh, tryna keep up with the rest

Snapbacks trade for them fitteds on tilt

Auto-tune croons over ego and guilt

We chant hooks loud in the high school gym

Thinking this whole world was built for them

From the tape deck days to the algorithm plays

We survived every wave, every phase, every craze

Every ringtone hit, every dance, every phase

Same pen, same pain, just a different decade

From the hand‑to‑hand burn to the digital flame

New slang, new chain, but it’s all the same game

Every hook, every verse, every name in the grave

Same heart, same hurt, just a different decade (yeah)

’13, cracked phone with the screen broke

Timeline scroll, new star every repost

Hashtags, challenges, viral smoke

Everybody raps now, that’s the inside joke

Uber to the party, AUX get passed

Bass so rude make the windows gasp

We chant one word like a battle flag

Whole room jump when the 808 drag

’19, world feel strange, glitching

Dark room, blue glow, doom in the mentions

Anxiety laced in the flex and the fashion

Sad boys croon while the cash still flashing

’26, kid in the crib with a hand‑me‑down mic

Type beat queued, dreams in sight

Uploads one song from a cracked device

Somewhere in the world, someone press like

From the tape deck days to the algorithm plays

We survived every wave, every phase, every craze

Every ringtone hit, every dance, every phase

Same pen, same pain, just a different decade

From the hand‑to‑hand burn to the digital flame

New slang, new chain, but it’s all the same game

Every hook, every verse, every name in the grave

Same heart, same hurt, just a different decade (oh)

Trends fade, slang switch, outfits change

But a verse still cut like the first time, man

You can trade CDs for a swipe and a tap

But a life still fit in sixteen and a half

From the tape deck days to the algorithm plays

We survived every wave, every phase, every craze

Every ringtone hit, every dance, every phase

Same pen, same pain, just a different decade

From the hand‑to‑hand burn to the digital flame

New slang, new chain, but it’s all the same game

Every hook, every verse, every name in the grave

Same heart, same hurt, just a different decade (yeah, yeah)