| Walking through the April showers
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| Through the broken glass and the changing flowers
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| It seems like the rain is pounding harder
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| When those who have no way to get out of it
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| But every face in the crowd
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| Has burdens that chase and been weighing them down
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| Tryin' to find their place and how to stay safe
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| When that place just ain’t been allowed
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| The uncertainty, anger and doubt
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| Are the violence that makes it unsafe in their town
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| Some deal with the pain that devours
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| Those that don’t stay that straight for power
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| The only thing that stays the same is change
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| But we too afraid to break from now
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| Our parents had their day
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| But now it’s our kids that we need to be making proud
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| Soul
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| Let the music be the fuse that will spark my soul
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| Let the music be the fuse that will spark my soul
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| Let the music be the fuse that will spark my soul
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| My soul, my soul, my soul, my soul…
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| As I flip the first page on the calendar year
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| Be right back with another one to bang on your ear
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| Got the hustle and the drive and the talent is clear
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| But, see the challenge is to balance it and manage to steer
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| Through the potholes and the obstacles
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| On these moonlit streets where the cops patrol
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| Got a little bit of knowledge, but there’s lots to know
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| I was cruising for a minute, but I lost control
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| Had to ease back, take my foot of the gas
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| Uncover all the pain that I had put in the past
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| Re-answer all the questions that I shouldn’t have asked
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| And come to terms with the lessons that I couldn’t have grasped
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| When I was much younger, dedication plus hunger
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| Took us not to the very top, but just under
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| Now we just trying to break the ceiling
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| My soul’s on fire, can’t shake the feeling
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| You know
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| I wrote this rhyme while watching my daughter sleep
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| Wishing I knew the peace that she does, its sorta deep
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| At the same time her great grandma is being buried
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| Some day she’ll be burying me, sorta scary
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| Ordinarily wouldn’t really be on my mind
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| But the fact I made it over 20 is divine
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| So I welcome every challenge that comes
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| As experience, wisdom is the sum
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| So if I sound a little older than I am
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| It’s because this wicked world forced me to be a man
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| Really can’t say I wish I was still a teen
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| Kinda like being trapped in the guillotine
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| It seems everyone wanted to take my head
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| Instead of building like brothers, breaking bread
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| And it became therapy to write on the page
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| Even as youth departs and I’m coming of age
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| It sparks my |