Like food for thought was my father but i ain't have the hunger
A stain on the mattress, so your dad is your mums brother
To understand your ways, inexperienced back in the days
Then i struggled to bust straight / missed your mums face
Ain't no doubt about it, hey girl, baby you cool
Churches searching for the pockets of the poor
People label me as soft, emotional and poor
Incoming callplus this my homie from high school
Told my mama in '03 i ain’t going back to school
I'm your final save, no more need to cave, it's sure, no poor
They got all this money while people are poor
I'm tryin' pimp em i'm trying to be that cool
Where most people are poor and uneducated,
Black foamposites, it's like we on that mobbing shit
I represent the desperation of the poor
I've seen niggas loose cool, niggas leave school
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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