Lyrics My Mama Thinks I'm Crazy - Saigon, Curbside Hustle

My Mama Thinks I'm Crazy

Uh, uh, uh
Truth or dare, who should care, Lucifer’s near, proof is there
Either your gun is a souvenir, or you use it, yeah
When you use it you face the music, prison you lose it there
How could you compare?
Niggaz is 20 and they losin hair
Mama said «Brian, I hate to say this shit but I don’t be lyin
The way you livin I only picture you dyin»
And though I’m defiant, I know the reason why she droppin the science
Know why that’s what she implyin, I know why she cryin
My mama thinks I’m crazy (damn, my mama think I’m crazy)
My mama thinks I’m craaaaazy
Two to the one, I get a gun, you get a gun, do it for fun
Mama not believin there’s reasons niggaz’ll shoot at her son
She know I sell smoke but don’t know that I’m movin a ton
Hard to find a job, yeah, at least not a lucrative one
One of your dude’s niggaz gettin money that’s much younger than you
You catch hustle fever, your temperature’s like 102
'Stead of goin to see the doc, you goin to see 'Pac
Pop was short for popular, gotta supply the B rock
She wrote me when I was in C block
My mama thinks I’m crazy (my mama think I’m crazy)
My mama thinks I’m crazy (uhh, my mama think I’m crazy)
My mama thinks I’m craaaaazy
My mama checkin in my bedroom but I ain’t there
I left a note that said «Life ain’t fair"(life ain’t fair)
I came back and seen a note that said «I ain’t care
Yeah motherfucker, life ain’t fair, I let you live here»
The struggles of a single black woman raisin a man
That and poverty obviously go hand in hand
Damn!
My mama think I’m crazy
The funny thing she been thinkin this since I was a baby
Well if I’m crazy then I’m prayin that father can save me
Cause my mama?
My mama?
MY MAMA?
Man, listen
My mama thinks I’m crazy (my mama think I’m crazy)
But she don’t know a thiiiiiiing
(My damn mama thinks I’m crazy, uh, uh-huh)
(How real is, this?)
My mama thinks I’m craaaaaaazyyyy