[Spoken: CookBook] Yo, this one goes out to all the unsung heroes The ones that's raising their kids and loving their wives This is dedicated to Doug Atkins, Kofi Boateng, Manuel Palma Senior, and of course Phillip Soto rest in peace Yeah [Verse 1] It's my eighth birthday, 1984 I wake up to shoes, clothes, toys and more Everybody that I loved stared through the front door Who are you? I've never seen your face before Unsure of what to say, I don't speak at all [?] you look like me standing six feet tall Back to the wall uncomfortable with you in my house I wish that mom would kick you out Time to blow the candles out, happy birthday we sing I notice, that you don't say a thing A gift you didn't bring, and mom looked sad She had to tell her little boy that you were his dad Feeling bad, [?], I don't see nothing good Trade you in for a new dad if I could Still you stood, until you stepped out for a smoke The smoke cleared, and you disappeared like a ghost [Chorus] Nobody on the planet can do your job No better combination than you and mom When it's right it's right When it's wrong it's wrong A house ain't a home when daddy's gone Nobody on the planet can do your job No better combination than you and mom When it's right it's right When it's wrong it's wrong A house ain't a home when daddy's gone [Verse 2] I didn't have the average black dad Planting the seed that grow mad Wondering if everything I had inside me was bad My pops was African and proud My mom's from L.A. and loud They'd disagree until the sun went down Come around my fifth year of school they were cool on staying together My pops was like "Whatever I do, it's to better you kids And I did, all that I know to do But your mother tends to misguide you What's most important is school She'd rather you fail, but know your bible She's my rival, she'll disagree, just to start a fight" So, back and forth they'd go, with their defensive reason Mom would work my father checked our homework every evening I was deceiving, F's and D's I was receiving I didn't get whippings I got African beatings I hope I'm not misleading my pop's a great man Still lobbying for college, still an anti-rap fan [Chorus] Nobody on the planet can do your job No better combination than you and mom When it's right it's right When it's wrong it's wrong A house ain't a home when daddy's gone Nobody on the planet can do your job No better combination than you and mom When it's right it's right When it's wrong it's wrong A house ain't a home when daddy's gone [Verse 3] Yo, how many short comings he has But he's full of love and deep Ever since my birth when he was only 17 Faithful to my mother, he saw her as a queen Wouldn't leave her bedside when cancer came to the scene He's a, man of faith, a pillar in the church But mostly, my dad's about (work, work, work) Uh-huh Some would say my dad's a workaholic and Some would say that I'm a workaholic and Now that's how we usually relate A similar struggle, where our debts communicate Financial provision and [?] is a blessing He's taught me perseverance, through all of life's testing It's, do or die, never quit, stand firm in faith [?] Wise in counsel, attentive with the ear Even thousands of miles away, I know he's right here [Chorus] Nobody on the planet can do your job No better combination than you and mom When it's right it's right When it's wrong it's wrong A house ain't a home when daddy's gone Nobody on the planet can do your job No better combination than you and mom When it's right it's right When it's wrong it's wrong A house ain't a home when daddy's gone