Bring My Family Back (Robbie Rivera’s Phat Funked Up mix)

Beg you listen me, don't be kissin' me til I'm done
unsung champion, a reason like seasoning ah
pepper your thoughts with spice,
and entice you to a space
where I dwell with bass players and layers are loops
think what I think with my prayers its nice
my world is everything I've become
contained in the hum between voice and drum
I'm coming from the same place I'm a still running from
but even sitting in the garden one can still get stung

I'm on Lonely Street age nearly three
Recently Mama's cryin' all the time is it because of me?
Or my younger sister? Even Dad was weeping when he kissed her
Face all Puffy like a blister, cryin' like he missed her
Since we moved away from the house where we use to play
They say I'll understand one day,
but I doubt it, Mama never say nothin' about it
How'd it get to be so crowded I found it a strain,
everywhere I look I see pain
And I can't escape the feelin' maybe I'm to blame
So I strain to listen, prayin' for a decision, wishing
they were kissin' This feels like extradition
or exile, Mama finds it hard to smile
So I make pretend cups of coffee in her favourite style
She says child I'm working so there's nothing you lack
But she know I want my Dad, I want my family back

I'm on Lonely Street, age forty-three
Couldn't gauge when to quit so my wife quit me
Took offence, took the kids, I wish that was the end
But before she took her leave she took care of my best friend
Workin' all the hours God send was not the tactic
Y'see cuz after ten years I'm left with jack tihs
Wanted to make the cash quick so I used ta work real late
Mad sex, My woman's vex even if I stay awake
And if I'm honest, I had a little cake at the office
I was eatin' We'd do our cheatin over coffees,
makin' tea for the bosses makin free with me
and I agree I got sleazy too easily
But I'm forty-three, this doesn't usually happen to me
Now I'm lonely, I wonder what my son's doing today
Suddenly I'm blinkin' like the screen on my computer display
and I'm drinkin' concerned about what's down the track
if I don't get my family back

I'm on Lonely Street, number fifty-three
Boarded up properly, I'll probably get pulled down
Litter all around inside there's no sound and no light
But yo it gets busy at night, people creppin'
Derelicts sneakin' to fix, speakin'
On the way my timbers creaking', roof leakin'
And bricks comin' loose, knee high in refuse
But even though I'm a slum I'm still of some use
There was a time when my walls were decorated
And under my roof children were educated
But now paint's faded, windows are all smashed
A crash in the economy robbed me of my family
And no strategy combats negative equity so that's it.
Like violence it's drastic
I'm freaking', and seekin' to be more than just a house of crack
somebody bring my family back