Summer Breeze - DJ Quik

Now even though I was only a young buck, I was still trying to kick it

Having a gang of fun and much too young to be wicked

Cause when I was thirteen you know we didn’t have cars

It was either double ride the peg nuts or hop on the handle bars

And then we went and bought a gang of balloons and had

A water balloon fight that lasted until the night

Then after that we played some «Hide and Go Get It»

With the neighborhood homegirls dumb enough to be with it

All in fun and games and keeping it cool

But my my, when you’re kicking it, time flies by

Cause every hour’s a minute, and every minute’s a sec

And if I’d came home late, my moms would ring my neck, yeah

But I regret not them whoopings I got

Cause to be able to play the next day was okay

On a mission, to hit up the neighbor’s fruit trees

Just a bunch of kids chillin', enjoying the summer breeze

Summer breeze, flowing like the wind

Boy you need to know that you got a friend

And I’ll always be here (I'll always be here)

Now I’m growing some fuzz, getting older like 17 or 18

And the only thing I know is to stay clean

T-shirt, short pants, Nikes on spotless

I was even old enough to buy me a Cutlass

Or a vehicle to ride around town, flirt with the hoes and

Roll down the window and mack to the one who’s chosen

Yo, them biker pants look kinda right on you

My name is DJ Quik and my homies is having a barbeque

Before I finish my whole sentence complete

Yo she was off the bus stop and in my passenger seat

And we was sliding to the Westside, stopped at the store

To get some Boones Farm because that make 'em kick it a little more

And at the spot, you know that chicken was kicking

The pig on the grill, and so the day was chill

But that night, my girl was tipsy and was ready to skeeze

But I didn’t even trip, too busy jocking the summer breeze

Now I’m 23 and I remember the times when

We was chillin' like villians and didn’t have no nines

Like when we used to mob to beaches to kick it and swim

Now I hang around and watch the tides come in

And I’m thinking how many funerals I’ve been to

Watching all my homies get buried in them boxes they put 'em into

And then I read a letter from upstate

From my homie G-Wayne, who’s been locked up since '87, '88

And it really ain’t nothing fly about it

So either I’mma stay strong or break down and simply cry about it

And when it seem like things just ain’t gon be right

I gotta thank my creator for letting me sleep last night

And waking me up in the morning because I shudder to think

That that could be me dead or locked away in the clink

So I’m lifting my homie’s spirits as tall as the trees

And I can even hear him calling me, in the summer breeze