Father I already know how to shoot a gun.
Though not my biological, you are still responsible.
I watch the way you talk, the way you walk and the reason you don’t f_ _k with me somehow
I feel it’s my fault.
Father, I already know how to be slick.
I watch how you get at my mother and them other chicks,
but I don’t know what it is to be a man
How to deal with my pain.
See, me and my gang
is on promethazine being raised by Lil Wayne.
Father, I already know how to die
and how to lie.
But I need you to tell me that it’s okay to cry
and it don’t hurt to try.
Even though you are not my biological, I still follow you.
You are my only role model dude.
So I call on you
to help shape me,
but for some reason you shake me.
I heard you tell someone that you were married to the street, in love with the block.
So I ask this question from upstate in a box,
do you care what happens? Father, show me something I don’t know.
