Autobiographical Lyrics - Non-fiction - Black Sheep

It's the brown child, better version of the story 

Sees Conji, a sister, mother played by Tori 

In Astoria, kid named, Tiki took the cake 

The greens and the steak and the potatoes and the plate 

Never a dummy, rejections are funny 

First years of my life I thought that food stamps were money 

So by ten I was the mess, got a men and then I had friend 

So now I'm snatching pocket books with Sean Wilkinson 

Get that money, lil' nigga' that's what they told me 

I never sweated props cause like my pops they couldn't hold me 

Until he found shorty's got it going on, rolling on 

Who told? Damn, bendecion 

The Bland man and my pop don't give a damn 

The day I played with matches, took the stove to my hand 

Hot temperature, he told me the players' version 

The ego in submersion for the end of week excursion 

Until I'm back, back on the scene 

Like a ball on the green, giving strokes with my team 

And despite the commentary pop told me, I'm lowly 

And moms change-bank can't hold me, so 

She don't scold me, she just grabs the belt 

Knuckle the buckle, tells me all about the pain she felt 

At the precinct when a pre-teen was spotted at the scene 

Came up with the green, not a cop could intervene 

Listen here, you little motherfucker 

You ain't going to fuck with me 

Got me coming to this damn precinct 

Dammit, I'm a kick your motherfucking ass 

Shit, you ain't going to drive me crazy 

Now, happens Tori met Tom, not too long ago 

He was a nigga, yo, he said he had the flow though 

He loved a bro, I know I didn't see you grow 

To a TV show cause the nigga said we all could go 

So I'm up and out of the ghetto, son of a gold miner 

City slicking, Carolinian standing out like Ming China 

A golden bull at heart though I moved around 

The balls bounced to the bottom, settled at a small town 

Hey, boy, what's your name?, first day, first fight 

I'm out of New York and boy, it don't sit right if you're white 

Light were my steps from there 

Did my dirt on the low, a southern town nightmare 

'Cause the next year it was me and Ef on the furlough 

We were the only queens kids but there were other boroughs 

With Rockwell, D-Ski, Ron Duke and Freddie 

New York was represented like we danced for Rock Steady 

Stan had tables and mics, every brother nice 

Not only could we rip and rhyme but backspin and slice 

With Paris and Foxy and Christina P's bust 

You know them loud, raunchy, trouble-making niggas? That was us 

A menace yet still I played tennis, ain't that cruddy 

Advanced with the Reeboks, they called them, Cut Buddies' 

I hung with one, only one younger brother 

Shorty Doo-Wop could cut and scratch up any other 

Bigger than his size, was barely five feet 

In 83 broke beats that today rock streets 

With no one to grade it, still never debated 

Some saw and hated but they never contemplated 

It was the wild child with foul styles, pal but not foul 

A dis was never okay unless it came before corral 

Pals of mine, peoples though were down 

I graduate next week and, yo, next week I'm NY bound 

Seven days from that one I'm leaving love that weighs a ton 

I'm going to miss you niggas, yo, that rapping shit was crazy fun 

But I'm leaving on the next bus 

I've got your numbers and we'll keep in touch, I trust 

Gliding, riding back to my domain 

For love and money, fuck fame, my life will never be the same 

As the next man's words, can you dig it? 

I say I got a scheme, a-yo, I gots you figured 

Yo, wassup, wassup, is money out here? 

Yo, I just got a call from that nigga, Tiki 

Remember that nigga Tiki? 

He on his way from down south 

My real pops was a pusher when we left he had a section 

So I keep it in the family or at least I make connection 

With the prime figures for affiliated support 

In my purchase of cargo in the import and export 

Flushing, queens back when junkies was the fiends 

My childhood friends held Buddha, had babies in dreams 

I took pops off my shit list 'cause he had the fitness 

To help Tiki get his, what the fuck, pop? Jehovah witness 

What the fuck, pop? What's with the fizz-plop 

I'm like, I can't put him down but the shit don't stop 

Worked at a law firm, for lack of fear 

I wrote a resume, spending words like a millionaire 

From there to the bank, see the bank's down the block 

So now I'm close to home, I clock, I plot 

With popote 

He's my cousin and a wily one 

Though the kid was younger, quick like thunder 

With the heart to put you under 

Props even, the shit can't fail 

I saw Reese, bagged with pote and made a sale 

Go ahead, get that money, get that money 

I ain't going to let nobody see you 

I got your back, baby, I got your back 

You want five? You only got two 

On one late night, I had made a nice amount 

More than two weeks pay, playing with the new accounts 

So I rose like a petal, fuck pops, I run with thugs 

Levis, Tims, hoodie, coat, skully, drugs 

Fatigues before they were the fashion 

Pockets with work and others with cash in 

Thought I was cool with tools and mad trap 

My pops was like, Read this, but I was like fuck that 

So I jingle-jangled, clocked at every angle 

Tiki's getting paid and his crew's star-spangled 

And everyday, all day, night, yo, whatever 

Niggas on the strip in sub-zero weather 

Back before the first generation of fiends 

My team was sheer cream, keeping dollar bills green 

Fashion, Calvin cooler, playing, Rick The Ruler 

And I can't front on nobody cause I pulled on a woolah 

Back in '86, first, foremost and final 

Rhyming on the corner, all I want to be's on vinyl 

I bum rush and boom bash, not even for merit 

Bounce out to see Reg and Joe down on Merrick 

But mostly it's the strip that I played like a cock 

On the block until the day I got knocked