beautifulrock & Shizzah

Since when I was a little baby, things were always a little crazy
The burning blades of poverty, things were always riddle-shady
Standing in line for cartons of milk and loaves of bread
For a food-coupon you could get shot in the head
Faith failed me, casualties were daily
Bad dreams used to chase me, my own past is scared to face me
But I picked up a book, kept my head up high
To fall down all shook, naw, I ain't that guy
We were family, united as a whole
My bro changed my diapers, when he was 10 years old
Now he a philosopher, got thousands of books to hold
What they did to us, it was truly sick
They were fucking us, like a live porno flick
We got out of the mess, now we struggling for less
We going for the light at the end of the tunnel
Like pouring water into the wrong end of a funnel
Things will get better, I keep reassuring myself
But as time goes, it looks like I'm fooling myself
That's just one of the stories under my belt

She was 16 years old when my mother had me
they called us lower middle class, some fancy words for poverty
step-dad married mom when I was only four
but he was like an empty vessel and quite a fucking bore
there but never there, and Mom began to drink
a few years later she didn't give a fuck what people think
One day when I was thirteen I came home from school
Mom was sloppy and slurring her mouth covered in drool
She started fighting for nothing, said she wished she had an abortion
I lost a huge part of myself, and not just a portion
My grades went to shit, I became dead inside
my head started spinning, thoughts turned to suicide
suicide, suicide, hummina homi-homicide
run little kiddies, bitches you can't even hide
Theres nothing you can do when my anger comes to pass
except burrow in a corner with your head wedged up your ass.