Pops was a mac
I'm the son of a gun
He never stayed with me
As far as raising me basically Nothing was done
Cursed as a child
But been blessed since my birth
From a good home
But seen worse of the worse
We just had everything
Holidays never rained
Food in the fridge
From the first to the first
Little wished his dad died
To get them checks
To the blind eye
That shit sound crazy
Then I thought about it
And I got them checks
My father dying
Helped my mother raise me
Come from the heart of the city
The 7th ward
Yougins walking wit choppas
I swear they never bored
Reaper waiting around the corner your never warned
Food from luckys
A Hugi up from the corner store
You was the reason
They called me a bastered
My mother fought your wife Next to that casket
Child at the wake
Memories ever lasting
F*ck that
If a nigga taking off ya kids plate Bust back
If you got a good women
Right at home love dat
Seems like everybody dying
In the city but rats
F*ck that
If a nigga taking off ya kids plate Bust back
If you got a good women right at home love dat
Seems like everybody dying
In the city but rats
My mixtape made it to heaven
My mixtape made it to heaven
My pops is bumping my shit
Him and Tupac in the whip
He told me that shit is lit
Aaliyah now on my
My mixtape made it to heave
Use to pray for a blessing
Copy's god said he got seven
My mixtape
Pops was a mac I'm the son of a gun
He never stayed with me as far raising me basically nothing was done
Had to get it on my own
Had to learn my right from
Wrongs
This shit started as a poem
No such thing as perfect homes
Momma cried she heard this song
I got a phone call for my birthday From my man out in Vegas
2 Days later same folks in my crib They said happy belated
Cut deep wit them words
So that night I got fresh and got Faded
But I still wanted my family to be The main reason I make it
I was taught
You gotta feed the fam
Until I meet the man
And my pops greet with hands
Gotta feed the fam
Until I see the land
And all my shackles canned
Flea just text stop playing
Drop them bombs Iran
This gotta reach japan
This gotta feed ya soul
Give you everything I know
If you promise that you'll grow
Everything I seen
If you say you'll follow dreams
Talking triple triple beams
Man this gotta feed the team
Swear this gotta feed the team
Mm2h (Intro) Video (MV)
Bray Stewart - Mm2h (Intro) Lyrics
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Pops was a mac
I'm the son of a gun
He never stayed with me
As far as raising me basically Nothing was done
Cursed as a child
But been blessed since my birth
From a good home
But seen worse of the worse
We just had everything
Holidays never rained
Food in the fridge
From the first to the first
Little wished his dad died
To get them checks
To the blind eye
That shit sound crazy
Then I thought about it
And I got them checks
My father dying
Helped my mother raise me
Come from the heart of the city
The 7th ward
Yougins walking wit choppas
I swear they never bored
Reaper waiting around the corner your never warned
Food from luckys
A Hugi up from the corner store
You was the reason
They called me a bastered
My mother fought your wife Next to that casket
Child at the wake
Memories ever lasting
F*ck that
If a nigga taking off ya kids plate Bust back
If you got a good women
Right at home love dat
Seems like everybody dying
In the city but rats
F*ck that
If a nigga taking off ya kids plate Bust back
If you got a good women right at home love dat
Seems like everybody dying
In the city but rats
My mixtape made it to heaven
My mixtape made it to heaven
My pops is bumping my shit
Him and Tupac in the whip
He told me that shit is lit
Aaliyah now on my
My mixtape made it to heave
Use to pray for a blessing
Copy's god said he got seven
My mixtape
Pops was a mac I'm the son of a gun
He never stayed with me as far raising me basically nothing was done
Had to get it on my own
Had to learn my right from
Wrongs
This shit started as a poem
No such thing as perfect homes
Momma cried she heard this song
I got a phone call for my birthday From my man out in Vegas
2 Days later same folks in my crib They said happy belated
Cut deep wit them words
So that night I got fresh and got Faded
But I still wanted my family to be The main reason I make it
I was taught
You gotta feed the fam
Until I meet the man
And my pops greet with hands
Gotta feed the fam
Until I see the land
And all my shackles canned
Flea just text stop playing
Drop them bombs Iran
This gotta reach japan
This gotta feed ya soul
Give you everything I know
If you promise that you'll grow
Everything I seen
If you say you'll follow dreams
Talking triple triple beams
Man this gotta feed the team
Swear this gotta feed the team
I'm the son of a gun
He never stayed with me
As far as raising me basically Nothing was done
Cursed as a child
But been blessed since my birth
From a good home
But seen worse of the worse
We just had everything
Holidays never rained
Food in the fridge
From the first to the first
Little wished his dad died
To get them checks
To the blind eye
That shit sound crazy
Then I thought about it
And I got them checks
My father dying
Helped my mother raise me
Come from the heart of the city
The 7th ward
Yougins walking wit choppas
I swear they never bored
Reaper waiting around the corner your never warned
Food from luckys
A Hugi up from the corner store
You was the reason
They called me a bastered
My mother fought your wife Next to that casket
Child at the wake
Memories ever lasting
F*ck that
If a nigga taking off ya kids plate Bust back
If you got a good women
Right at home love dat
Seems like everybody dying
In the city but rats
F*ck that
If a nigga taking off ya kids plate Bust back
If you got a good women right at home love dat
Seems like everybody dying
In the city but rats
My mixtape made it to heaven
My mixtape made it to heaven
My pops is bumping my shit
Him and Tupac in the whip
He told me that shit is lit
Aaliyah now on my
My mixtape made it to heave
Use to pray for a blessing
Copy's god said he got seven
My mixtape
Pops was a mac I'm the son of a gun
He never stayed with me as far raising me basically nothing was done
Had to get it on my own
Had to learn my right from
Wrongs
This shit started as a poem
No such thing as perfect homes
Momma cried she heard this song
I got a phone call for my birthday From my man out in Vegas
2 Days later same folks in my crib They said happy belated
Cut deep wit them words
So that night I got fresh and got Faded
But I still wanted my family to be The main reason I make it
I was taught
You gotta feed the fam
Until I meet the man
And my pops greet with hands
Gotta feed the fam
Until I see the land
And all my shackles canned
Flea just text stop playing
Drop them bombs Iran
This gotta reach japan
This gotta feed ya soul
Give you everything I know
If you promise that you'll grow
Everything I seen
If you say you'll follow dreams
Talking triple triple beams
Man this gotta feed the team
Swear this gotta feed the team
Writer: BRALIN STEWART
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid