I'll tell you true stories, how i coldly hold heat
Dougie fresh up in the hood and he's bringing me my weed
Haven't talked to momma since she put my dad in jail
In the futuren, truly yours , wale
Selling cane, getting brain, at the same damn time
But tupac got shot and cost my dad more than a dime
I need something to hold fuck that passive aggression
But if you think a brother wants a kid, its a misconception,
I just pray for my father in jail.
Heard you might be comin home, just got bail
Me and my boy's up in jail chopping up nigga's with razors.
And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth
Down to ride to the bloody end, just me and my girlfriend
And dad left, uncle is in jail for theft. yeah, we're fucking blessed.
// [but the kid is not my son]
So next time i come, i'll bring you one
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