Lyrics Return to the 585 - Kaelen Ruder

Clarkes Crossing raised - steady sellin Lemonade
50 cents a cup plus cookies from the Kitchen-Aid
Swimmin like Mixhael in the cash flowin by us
Flagged out the flippin hood cuz they pure blood Americans

Pushed em in the wagon and now we got a G-Wagon
Boomers were uptight now all their corduroys are saggin
Rag top in the top down doon buggy on greenwood
You got a receipt boy? Mr. herd said to the blood

Yellow school bus rolled up with a space for a wheelchair
Half days only cuz by afternoon we didn't really care
Momma fed me good, packin apples and pears
Faked i didn't have a snack with strack but she gave me the glare

Stacked colored tiles before I started stacking dollars
Had to study geometry before i could become a big baller
Might have to hit law school so i can keep runnin the court
Don't wanna look a fool when I return back to the Port

Raider nation pledge your allegiance
Stand up and shout and they'll mark you for attendance
But When they took the knife out i knew it was no more
DNA incomplete like a missing kineticore

The port mine, but I don't mine ore
The Port mine, but I don't care no more
The Port mine, but i can't carry no more
The port lost it all, so its all yours

Meno's Parodox says oh wait you'll never know
Antiseptic for my wounds and a cast for the road
Sent to the therapist cuz i caught the Theraflu
Dr. Griffin always watch me from Panorama Avenue

He watch me while I get more watches
He was by my side like a bloomin' swatch is
Will I ever be worthy enough to unlock his latches
I don't know but I'll read the fine print where the catch is

Yea this one's out to that north rockland runner
Every dude In New York wanna go and date her
But then she run away she's like see you later
Now she hit the NC pipeline and they all hate her

Represent --All Star in the math meet
Pumpin pencils and flex calc's like an athlete
I couldn't rap to a beat like Lil Shirt could
Now I can't be beat like Jay-Z in the hood

The port is mine - but I don't mine ore
Seasons of plenty - ain't no kine or corn
But now it's bureaucracy - felt they had to sort more
So melancholy - that hit me to the core