Been Through the Storm

Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
While we keepin' it safe in front of churchgoers keepin' the faith
Wreck is all for the good, gettin' into shit

Everything's still the same, can't control how I feel

You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame
Nigga ran away from home, doin' different wild shit
On the corner late nights, plottin' to escape struggle

Tryin' to blend in with them city folk
Can't control how I feel

Huh, sometimes I think about my father
Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
That's why we stay up on the block, gettin' money
Feel a little of my pain, follow and sing to it
Whatever slinger came back, quickly brought me right along
My momma and poppa, moved to the U.S. as Jamaicans
Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayne
Though my pop was po', stayed away from crime and malice
So coarse, slap a mule and take the life from a donkey

Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayne
On the other hand, mommy was the type to work two jobs
Just to put a pair of Filas on, 'Didas on
1987 Reaganomics ever curious
Every day landlord knockin' down my do'
You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame

Every day landlord knockin' down my do'
A scavenger in brute pursuit to be happy, another young and
Nights got cold and still would hustle in the same place
Hard living gave him hard hands and callous
Been through the storm, through the cold and rain
Like we innocent, actin' older than should
Seek refuge in the alleged land of the free, lookin'
Homey, I seen it all, if you ain't knowin' I been through it
That's wildin' across the line until somebody tryin' to cap me, oh shit
I been through the storm, through the cold and rain
In other words I

Guyanese jeans bounce, put whatever slinger on
Wonderin' where my next blessing is comin' from
Can't control how I feel
You see, my poppa was broke, and my momma was young
Wonderin' where my next blessing is comin' from
Doin' things that probably get you in trouble
His hard hands rubbin, against the pretty skin of my mother's face
So many ways to make a dollar
Barely home for me to see her, or get a good cooked meal
Blendin' in with city folk, down in Flat bush Brooklyn

Tryin' to blend in with them city folk
As a young and peep how much they loved each other's space
It's kinda hard bein' humble in the belly of struggle
Walk around broke in the hood, watchin all the rich niggaz
These younger thugs who try to choke and try to get niggaz
Huh, sometimes I think about my father

Dig for treasure 'til his hands looked like hands of a junkie
And their honest livin', look and see just what I become
Got a little older, late teens, me and my crew would huddle
To visit other cities, out of town kick was serious

To hell with just gettin' by and economizin'
Got older, developed ways of grippin' the steel
Every thing's still the same
In front of Pancho Delis, now the freeze up on a nigga face
Thinkin' 'bout my mom and pop, while I'm monopolizin'

So many ways to make a dollar
You see, my poppa was broke, and my momma was young
Never enough money, that's why I got your whole crew robbed
Mom and pop be worryin' for they son, despite they struggle
Struggled to get visas and green cards through immigration