RJD2 drop that s*** so I can drop my thoughts
Driftin' away and depress all within listening range
Nah, but for real I got so much s*** on my mind
From fake m************ to my future I'm trying to get in line
And doing Hip Hop in this life and time
Ain't all nice and fine
At times I feel like my whole life's a rhyme
Full of punchlines and jokes
f***-ups and punch-ins
It's like I just can't get s*** right
The first time or somethin'
When no one knows your name
And your vinyl's still in stores
Once you get a little life
Through arguing over who feels it more
We got sixteen-year-old net-heads buying garbage
Wanting to keep you for their personal private artist
We don't do s*** for the clubs -
It's for us 45's go RJ's archaeologist diggin 'em up
And I'm the saint sent {Saint-Saens}
To vinyl when it gets set to bash
And it's for life until my final mic check is cashed
Yo
I can't fully become my mother's guiding light
Till my dad returns to tell me what the other side is like
I keep the things you taught trapped in mind
I know you cared even though you weren't here half the time
But who am I to blame
I'd probably do the same in your shoes
I never held that against you
Complained or a**umed
You never went through what I'm living
Hell who am I kidding?
Depression is practically
A part of family tradition
So I keep the time we shared close
It sucks to lose
It also sucks we had to share the month of june
I woulda shared eternal time before I left
Each month I celebrate my birth
I'm reminded of your death
Driftin' away and depress all within listening range
Nah, but for real I got so much s*** on my mind
From fake m************ to my future I'm trying to get in line
And doing Hip Hop in this life and time
Ain't all nice and fine
At times I feel like my whole life's a rhyme
Full of punchlines and jokes
f***-ups and punch-ins
It's like I just can't get s*** right
The first time or somethin'
When no one knows your name
And your vinyl's still in stores
Once you get a little life
Through arguing over who feels it more
We got sixteen-year-old net-heads buying garbage
Wanting to keep you for their personal private artist
We don't do s*** for the clubs -
It's for us 45's go RJ's archaeologist diggin 'em up
And I'm the saint sent {Saint-Saens}
To vinyl when it gets set to bash
And it's for life until my final mic check is cashed
Yo
I can't fully become my mother's guiding light
Till my dad returns to tell me what the other side is like
I keep the things you taught trapped in mind
I know you cared even though you weren't here half the time
But who am I to blame
I'd probably do the same in your shoes
I never held that against you
Complained or a**umed
You never went through what I'm living
Hell who am I kidding?
Depression is practically
A part of family tradition
So I keep the time we shared close
It sucks to lose
It also sucks we had to share the month of june
I woulda shared eternal time before I left
Each month I celebrate my birth
I'm reminded of your death