L.O.B. (Life of a Bastard)

Ain't like I'm still five years old you know
Ain't like imma be sitting' up every night askin my mom
When's daddy coming' home you know
Who needs him
Hey he wasn't there to teach me how to shoot my first basket
But I learned didn't I
Hey I got pretty damn good at it too
Didn't I uncle Phil
Got threw my first day without him
Right, I learned how to drive
I leaned how to shave
I learned how to fight without him
I had 14 great birthdays without him
He never even sent me a damn card
TO HELL WITH HIM

This the life of a bastard
Momma dead and gone
And ain't no word from my daddy
Three kids of my own I ain't know shit when I had 'em
I be dead wrong if I raise em in disaster
This the life of a bastard
Momma dead and gone
And ain't no word from my daddy
Three kids of my own I ain't know shit when I had 'em
I be dead wrong if I raise em in disaster

When I came up
I remember shit was good then it changed up
Momma running back and forth get change up
That mean we was on our own get your brain up
We had to steal to eat
A jar of peanut butter and water
That's a meal to me
Use the oven to warm us up and couldn't feel the heat
I got a whole lot of pain that's why I feel the beat
But you'll never know
How it feel to watch your momma playin' with her nose
And she steady losing' weight as she come and goes
HIV was the reason as the story goes
And my daddy wasn't shit
He saw me at the funeral cheered me up and that was it
That's why everyday at school I would cry and throw a fit
I was feeling so neglected by my parents as a jit
But um

This the life of a bastard
Momma dead and gone
And ain't no word from my daddy
Three kids of my own I ain't know shit when I had 'em
I be dead wrong if I raise em in disaster
This the life of a bastard
Momma dead and gone
And ain't no word from my daddy
Three kids of my own I ain't know shit when I had 'em
I be dead wrong if I raise em in disaster

I ain't need him then and I don't need him now
Na you know what uncle Phil
Imma get through college without him
Imma get a great job without him
Imma marry me a beautiful honey
And imma have me a whole bunch of kids
Imma be a better father than he ever was
And I sure as a hell don't need him for that
'Cause ain't a damn thing he could ever teach me
About how to love my kids
How come he don't want me man



Credits
Writer(s): Leroy Henley, Willard C. Smith
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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