Papa was a rolling stone and mama was a solid rock
Remember when we lost our green, our choices costed us our moss
I got busy penning poems, i was always one to talk a lot
Unknowingly mom got me the smallest book of some poetry from Pac
Rose that grew from concrete, i didn't know then it would mean a lot
In between skipping cla**es, hopping jobs, or working on my stop and pop
Thoughts of when i used to watch my pop get the ball
And beat the clock with me watching with dreams of shots
Daydreams kept me sane, i filled the margins with schemes to not
Remember homework doesn't matter when home hurts and you fear your thoughts
Used to hang in hallways early flirting with this one girl who got
Why i wrote these poems always, even when my homies thought
“Nawwwww, you the smartest jock, all this nonsense gotta stop
Why you off in corners writing corny songs on your own a lot?”
One time she asked: “why you always writing or balling? don't you want all of this?”
I thought i'd polish songs to save my life, ball for a scholarship