| Yeah, come on
|
| Cuz I could see it in you…
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| That’s right…
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| Cuz I could see it in you…
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| Word up… said I could see it in you…
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| You know, it’s all in your eyes, girl…
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| Now to the queens of the world, divine mothers of the world
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| Latina cover girls, the black pearls
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| Struggling for your kids, tryin' to be the best
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| Taking no shorts like Mae West, never would listen
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| What momma love would suggest, that you request
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| A partner in life, never putting you through so much stress
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| You holding down your foundation, all by yourself
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| Reminiscing from the pain that was once felt
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| From the fathers, who got they lives took
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| And the ones here, be everything in the book
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| From a bastard to a crook, reality be when he look
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| At the responsibility for the kids’ll get him shook
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| See girl, cuz it was fifty-fifty when you layed down
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| That was '75, 25 when it came around
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| Yeah… you know, you know…
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| It’s kinda real for them…
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| So many girls havin' babies on their own
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| To the kids, male figures is never known
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| Cuz it’s rough in this world, taking care of your homes
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| So many girls havin' babies on their own
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| So many girls havin' babies on their own
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| Stay strong, may your heart stay as hard as stone
|
| Cuz it’s rough in this world, taking care of your home
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| Nowadays, so many girls havin' babies on their own
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| Respect due from New York to L.A., sophisticated females
|
| Floating with the grace of a nightingale
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| Shining, sexy with your hairdo’s and painted nails
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| Exquisite, bringing magazines on the visit
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| Of The Source, the Black Tail, MB’s
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| Champion sweatsuits at wholesale
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| Struggling, the 9-to-5 to get ya man’s bail
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| At the crib with the kids waiting to exhale
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| Ladies on the real, you know the Killa Bamz kids
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| I’m tired of seeing young girls with tears
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| Struggling from the pain, thinking of the lies and the cheating
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| Going down, memory lane, never knowing what the man
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| Of your life, try’nna gain
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| Always in your face, yelling, predicate felon
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| Got the nerve to complain, to my queens, let me explain
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| Let me explain, let me explain, yeah… you know, come on
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| Arguments and sticking, Bob Marley was doing his bids
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| Homeboy, I know you think they dealing and greave
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| But like you, son, women got needs
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| Car notes and housedeeds, kids to feed
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| Brothers making promises after promises on how days gon' get better
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| Whether poor or rich, we gon' be together forever
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| But don’t cry, from the lies after lies
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| By the dozens, talking forever, messing with your cousins
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| I’m not hating, strictly stating
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| Breaking down the jewels I’ve written, Cover Girl you secondary
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| Remotes necessary, to represent and hold down ya world, miss thing
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| Miss thing, miss thing…
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| Ain’t nobody gonna do for you, like you gon' do for me…
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| Yeah… |