Home is when your homie gives up his comfy bed and sleeps on his couch, cause your ass is too tired to drive back to your parents house, even though its not that late.

Home is when one of your boys tries to persuade you to move back to the Bay during a two hour drive, with the most ridiculous rationale but is completely serious at the same damn time.

Home is when your girls drag themselves out to a club, even though they've been out all day and are tired-AF, just because your ass wants to go dance.

Home is when your boy from Sacramento drives down for a night, even though he says he's broke and tells you: "Y'all ball like Jay-Z. I like to keep it on a Memphis Bleek level." But still comes out anyway after a minute of convincing.

Home is when you roll a dozen deep to a baseball game, cause you're in town and the Giants are your team.

Home is when your girl clears her schedule, so she can spend the day in Napa with you. Even if she has to drop you off in the city and has to deal with driving in traffic by herself all the way back to the South Bay during rush hour.

Home is when you meet up with your former boss and she has a cheetah print dress for you, which she bought months ago, cause she saw it and knew you needed it.

Home is when your best friend spends your entire last night with you in Milpitas, up until you have to wake your ass up at 6am to go to the airport. Then has to take BART cause he lives/works in the city.

Don't think I don't notice the love you show me.

No worries though, folks... NY is only temporary. The Bay is permanent, just give me a little longer and I'll never leave again. I already know.