Xicano Vega & Bad Child - T.I.O

I didn't grow up on Elm Street, though my teens were a nightmare
I was a crazy 80's baby, didn't fuckin' care
Mom's cryin', homie, oh well, I'm outta there
I'm a triangle, I don't fit in with squares
Love and affection, naw, that's somethin' that I don't need
I'd rather hang with the hustlers than the dope fiends
Suicidal in denial, self-destructive
Y'all talkin' about peace, I'm yellin' out, fuck this
Skinny as a twig, guilty as sin
Lord, please forgive me for the life that I live
Keep your hand of protection on the hood that I'm in
Cause we all born losers and we just wanna win
Woke up in the hospital, mom's was there and everything
What they find in ya system
Homie, everything
Put me in the county, every Sunday mom's there
I was an asshole, I didn't fuckin' care
Mom's, I made it, your son's still alive
Sometimes I still cry for the homies that died
Some will never know the honor of being called father
Others were taken, snatched from their sons and daughters
Don't put things off till tomorrow cause that's lame
I had some homies do it, but tomorrow never came
It ain't been all good, but dammit boy, I'm still here
I'm not Kevin Arnold, but I narrate my wonder years
When boys become men, they bound to lose friends
Miss me with that bullshit and with that nonsense
To my kids, I'm a hero, but my life ain't pretend
Move against them, I'll be the motherfuckin' villain
These bills whoopin my ass worse than any gang
Grown man shit, not too many can hang
I gotta talk myself out of selling dope everyday
Cause I just wanna live free and watch my kids play

Written by:
Matthew Vega

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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