Mama Said

It was welfare hustlin’, they killed her for that
The first shot, bullet wound in my back
I’m fucked up, look at my sneakers, I’m fucked up
Now I’m on my own, mommy gone
Sam said, “you a young boy, why your clothes look so old?
You don’t need fish, little nigga, you need a pole
You don’t need no new kicks, you need an O”
Chop that, bag it, get right back at it
That touched me, it hit me in my heart
I’m a hustler, homie, you was giving me my start

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s