Mike
My dude Mike was street soldier
How he walked, talked thought he was much older
Sixteen spitting mean sixteen's rocking iced rollie oyster marines
I mean when this young dude walked he had a lean a swag a chip as if life don't matter
But under that rock
Was a masterpiece ready to sculpted, holded hopefully molded it
To a fine young black man
But no mom and pop so I hope ya understand
What the young man
Had to do the road he chose to go through on his own and one day
He picked up dialed the phone, Too call grandma but nana was to busy
Playing numbers off of big red 314 hope to get it straight to pass Mike a few bucks in his bank
That didn't Quite happen
Little man scrappin'
Causing havoc
Then twelve grabbed him
They say throw him in a group home
Hopefully DSS will find a home yo
He like fuck that he runs again
Bump into a dude he knew back when
Dude promise him the world he cant lose he will win stack dough like pizza men
So of course sixteen he goes for it
Grab his work
Money pouring in
But poor mike
One night
Sold his rocks to a crack head looking like Halle Berry did
In Jungle fever
Dude caught a fever realize shes a undercover
What the fuck
They scuffle Mike gets away
She cuts him off in a dark alleyway
She yells fool
Don't move
He moved a inched
She grazed him on the chin
She yells again if you move again ill have you on the ten o' clock news looking dumb
But hes young
He moved again
She pump three times Mike meet his end
She walked over reached for his pocket grabbed his wallet his ID read
Michael Davis her name Toya Davis
Her gut told her that's my son I gave away when I was young
I didn't know better and it seems i still don't know better
She bends down starts to cry screaming please son don't die tonight
But it's too late she reached for her gun put it to her head the story is done
Moral of the story
We make our own story's
Author of our lives that's the ending story
Would it be a story when they sit and tell it
Did you live a lie or your true essence
Did you live a lie or your true essence
Did you live a lie or your true essence
I got a story sit back and let me tell it
I got a story spark up let me tell it
I got a story sit back and let me tell it
I got a story spark up let me tell it
I got a story sit back and let me tell it
I got a story spark up let me tell it
I got a story sit back and let me tell it
I got a story spark up let me tell it
How he walked, talked thought he was much older
Sixteen spitting mean sixteen's rocking iced rollie oyster marines
I mean when this young dude walked he had a lean a swag a chip as if life don't matter
But under that rock
Was a masterpiece ready to sculpted, holded hopefully molded it
To a fine young black man
But no mom and pop so I hope ya understand
What the young man
Had to do the road he chose to go through on his own and one day
He picked up dialed the phone, Too call grandma but nana was to busy
Playing numbers off of big red 314 hope to get it straight to pass Mike a few bucks in his bank
That didn't Quite happen
Little man scrappin'
Causing havoc
Then twelve grabbed him
They say throw him in a group home
Hopefully DSS will find a home yo
He like fuck that he runs again
Bump into a dude he knew back when
Dude promise him the world he cant lose he will win stack dough like pizza men
So of course sixteen he goes for it
Grab his work
Money pouring in
But poor mike
One night
Sold his rocks to a crack head looking like Halle Berry did
In Jungle fever
Dude caught a fever realize shes a undercover
What the fuck
They scuffle Mike gets away
She cuts him off in a dark alleyway
She yells fool
Don't move
He moved a inched
She grazed him on the chin
She yells again if you move again ill have you on the ten o' clock news looking dumb
But hes young
He moved again
She pump three times Mike meet his end
She walked over reached for his pocket grabbed his wallet his ID read
Michael Davis her name Toya Davis
Her gut told her that's my son I gave away when I was young
I didn't know better and it seems i still don't know better
She bends down starts to cry screaming please son don't die tonight
But it's too late she reached for her gun put it to her head the story is done
Moral of the story
We make our own story's
Author of our lives that's the ending story
Would it be a story when they sit and tell it
Did you live a lie or your true essence
Did you live a lie or your true essence
Did you live a lie or your true essence
I got a story sit back and let me tell it
I got a story spark up let me tell it
I got a story sit back and let me tell it
I got a story spark up let me tell it
I got a story sit back and let me tell it
I got a story spark up let me tell it
I got a story sit back and let me tell it
I got a story spark up let me tell it
Credits
Writer(s): Elliot Bristol
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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