Living in a box full of cuyahoga booze, and listen
Distance and friction, never mentioned when it meant your blessed trips son
Come downstairs with nothing but a shoe string
Your mom walks in and says good morning
But his mom came and told him "i made ya.
Our children must be taught, of africa
My mom and pops didn't want me
Oops, i'm so sorry
And i know that you're open
Hit the joint and pass it son
And that's how my story ends: my mom died
My uncle pulled me to the side
Its either life or the hood, choose whats right and good, and your family's first success son.
While you fucking with mei'm a self-made millionaire!thug livin', out of prison
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
You looking for tools to write and share lyrics online?
You're in luck! Get started using RapPad >