My friend,
you know,
you sang with your group back in high school,
back when I was fighting this for my survival.
When my D-Boy brother was my idol,
back when we were taking shots like
we were all competing for the title.
Back to the church, said, let me think.
Many drinks,
and spent so many drinks,
and I guess they got Sammy too.
Either that or it was like me,
and if you're mad,
I'm not mad at you.
I swear to God,
I'm getting back into the street,
I'm sorry.
When the rooster motherfuckin' jumped the group's thing for me,
know the time it blew apart and then I left.
But I know it except the call,
* call from jail collect.
He picked me up at the institution after I got there,
after a visit to my psych doctor one day I felt possessed.
Hey, what are you gonna do?
*, I think it's 22.
Also introduced a story like when I was 22,
now I'm an older man, but I recall the day.
My friend found me unconscious and he slapped my ass away.
We stayed up and we faced demons and that's got why we pray.
Well,
I be damned,
yes I am,
but I made some great friends along the way.
Never saw the light,
felt them pull me down,
so my last kind of stop was I don't wanna die in this town.
I don't wanna die in this town.
I don't wanna die in this city.
I don't wanna spend my whole life
working for some jealous motherfucker,
come get me.
I don't wanna die.
Mama, I don't wanna die.
I don't wanna die.
Mama, I don't wanna die.
Out
my window I could see my father walking down the street.
The liquor store must be open,
felt bad for his old feet,
but his hands shook until his lips tasted that KD.
Got his belly warm, I chucked * on the porch
until he fell asleep.
So many face fights,
drunk in that front yard falling.
The tap was so off and the neighbors gave up and stopped calling.
He overdosed in October,
but most of his last week alive he was sober.
We talked when he had came over.
Back then I still drove mom to the
methadone clinic three days a week.
That'd be our time we could visit.
And he told me that he still wasn't sure I was gifted.
How he didn't always get it,
but in the end he was glad that I did it.
See,
when I got the call he was in intensive care,
the 10th floor.
Drove like demons through the night to meet my sister there.
We run inside the hallway and got stopped there by the lab.
Her face was stern when she asked,
is this your dad?
I said, yeah, is he gonna make it?
She said his brain was deprived of
oxygen so long he couldn't take it.
We all sat down and my mama prayed out loud.
My sister's making calls,
I'm * blacking out.
Just can't forget, after all that he survived.
Bitch shot and stabbed,
went to war,
went to Owen here tonight.
Before reality grabbed me,
waiting room filled with family.
I swear that I'm not lying when I tell you that
he waited till the last motherfucker showed up.
They let us all gather in the room there
together for his heart rate started to slow up.
And we felt him when he passed,
like a wave through the room we were in.
And I love him and I miss him and I hope he made it safely,
but I never wanna see the place again.
I don't wanna die in this town.
I don't wanna die in this city.
I don't wanna spend my whole life with
some jealous motherfucker come get me.
I don't wanna die.
Mama, I don't wanna die.
I don't wanna die.
Mama, I don't wanna die.
I don't wanna die.