| It ain’t fair at all
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| To the children we brought into this world
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| That see us argue, and go back and forth
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| It ain’t fair at all
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| Only fourteen years old, body fully developed
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| Lived at home with two parents, but do more than her Daddy
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| Her Momma yelled at her, and appeared to stay mad at her
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| The truth has it, that wadn’t what that was
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| I hate to say it, her Momma was really jealous
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| And intimidated, by everything
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| That she had made at this beautiful baby
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| Fucks me up till today
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| Cause it’s crazy, what you wanted to be in life
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| Is what you created
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| Just think in the tenth grade, in visioning graduation
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| Moving her family out of the place where they stayed
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| To this pretty place, probably where the rich folks be
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| With the softest green grass ever felt by feet
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| But her dream, it would be shattered
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| Like a falling vase
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| Coming home to a note, left for her on the kitchen table
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| How much could you explain on one sheet of paper
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| Of what she wrote down wadn’t even half a page
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| You know he could of been whatever he wanted
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| If his folks had of got behind him
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| Pushed him out a little bit further
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| See sometimes the smallest things be enough
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| To give us what we need to exceed
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| And cross some hills and a hump
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| But when you grow up in a home always reminding him of em'
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| The man they say gave responsibility up
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| How much at thirteen, you think, that you’re life would be worth
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| And folks you growed up trusting was who was saying it to you
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| ???, everyday when he leave school
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| Cause on his way home there’s somebody that he talks to
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| Feels close to him, and pretty soon
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| He gonna drop out of school
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| And assume the life, that feels right to him |