Been Through the Storm

Guyanese jeans bounce, put whatever slinger on
To hell with just gettin' by and economizin'
That's wildin' across the line until somebody tryin' to cap me, oh shit
Been through the storm, through the cold and rain
Tryin' to blend in with them city folk
Blendin' in with city folk, down in Flat bush Brooklyn
Mom and pop be worryin' for they son, despite they struggle
And their honest livin', look and see just what I become
Like we innocent, actin' older than should
That's why we stay up on the block, gettin' money

Barely home for me to see her, or get a good cooked meal

Wonderin' where my next blessing is comin' from
Dig for treasure 'til his hands looked like hands of a junkie
Wreck is all for the good, gettin' into shit
Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
Everything's still the same, can't control how I feel
In front of Pancho Delis, now the freeze up on a nigga face
Got older, developed ways of grippin' the steel

Seek refuge in the alleged land of the free, lookin'
Doin' things that probably get you in trouble

Can't control how I feel

These younger thugs who try to choke and try to get niggaz
Every day landlord knockin' down my do'
I been through the storm, through the cold and rain
So many ways to make a dollar
While we keepin' it safe in front of churchgoers keepin' the faith
So many ways to make a dollar
Wonderin' where my next blessing is comin' from
Though my pop was po', stayed away from crime and malice
Hard living gave him hard hands and callous

Struggled to get visas and green cards through immigration

Whatever slinger came back, quickly brought me right along
You see, my poppa was broke, and my momma was young

You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame

Tryin' to blend in with them city folk
You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame

So coarse, slap a mule and take the life from a donkey
You see, my poppa was broke, and my momma was young

Feel a little of my pain, follow and sing to it
Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
On the corner late nights, plottin' to escape struggle
In other words I
Can't control how I feel
1987 Reaganomics ever curious
Nights got cold and still would hustle in the same place

A scavenger in brute pursuit to be happy, another young and
Homey, I seen it all, if you ain't knowin' I been through it
It's kinda hard bein' humble in the belly of struggle
His hard hands rubbin, against the pretty skin of my mother's face
My momma and poppa, moved to the U.S. as Jamaicans
Every thing's still the same
Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayne
Walk around broke in the hood, watchin all the rich niggaz
Just to put a pair of Filas on, 'Didas on
Huh, sometimes I think about my father

To visit other cities, out of town kick was serious
Never enough money, that's why I got your whole crew robbed
As a young and peep how much they loved each other's space
Every day landlord knockin' down my do'
Got a little older, late teens, me and my crew would huddle

Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayne
Thinkin' 'bout my mom and pop, while I'm monopolizin'
Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
Nigga ran away from home, doin' different wild shit
On the other hand, mommy was the type to work two jobs
Huh, sometimes I think about my father