Interlude (Mama)

Dear mama, dear mama
Shit
Nah, real talk, check, check

Ma, I know you're hurting, that it's burning you inside
The way your son is workin', you are certain I could die
Drownin' in the drugs while I be searchin' for the high
Mama's asking why I'm comin' home with circles 'round my eyes
I said, "Mama, I'm just tired", mama, that's a lie
Lately I been questionin' if someone's in the sky
'Cause every time I pray, mama, no one gon' reply
You told me keep the faith, Ma, I wonder if you lied
And now I'm gettin' high, party limousines
Now it's fiddy g's in my Balenciaga jeans
Now we eatin' pasta at a classier cuisines
Mama, half of this for you, but, mama, half of this for me
I'm still havin' dreams about the father I should be
I left my fuckin' fam for these Rihannas on the beach
And now I think the devil made a casket just for me
I don't really know if I should laugh or I should scream, fuck

Let it breathe for a bit
This that interlude shit, we all need peace, man
Mum, fuck, you're the MVP
I can't say it enough
I'm losing my voice from smoking, I need to chill, shit



Credits
Writer(s): Blake James Turnell, Mark J. Lombardo
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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