Lyrics
Its was July 12th, Sunny day in the eighties,
Nestled in ya womb, that day I was created,
To a moms struggling, no job, no food,
Pops busting his ass he the same old dude,
A child of the ghetto, Cook County, Illinois,
Any pain that I’m holding, know you fill the void,
You had to do something right, raised a killa boy,
And the thoughts of ya presence bring the realest joy.
We might not’ve been shit, if it wasn’t for the WIC,
And the government we blame for every problem that we get.
But you recognized my wits, never cared that I spit,
Know those shoes was small, but you swear that they fit,
Never let me quit, when I shitted on my self,
Forever by my hip, you committed to my health,
Glad you put the drugs down, church fitted you with help,
Those early sacrifices, why I hit you with the wealth now ma,
We can hair did, we can arch ya brows ma,
Take a shopping spree, drop a couple thou ma,
But I know you hold true to ya old views,
You’d rather give away anything anybody sold you,
You got the heart of a champ, better yet a roller,
I could tell you gangsta the way act bipolar,
Only white chick in the hood pushin round a stroller,
You kept it real mom, You define soldier.
Even when we moved to the Mil, you went back to work,
So I could eat school lunch you sacrificed ya shirt,
Playing ball in fifth grade, the whole team had J’s,
Mom’s went up to Kohl’s and copped me B.K’s.
Devastated at the time, it never made it through my mind,
This the best she could do as we waited on the grind,
It’s that spirit you possessed, that I’m hearing in my chest,
Saying question every problem like a test,
Though its storming from the start, we performing our parts,
You taught me everything I know, You a warrior at heart,
Now I’m warming up my smarts to ya extra praise,
So when I get to heaven’s gates we don’t go our separate ways…
