Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Family First, artist - Whitney Houston. Date of issue: 08.01.2007
Song language: English
Family First |
| 73rd and San Pedro |
| Uncle Sunny and Odell |
| Take your pick on what killed ya |
| Bullets, Cancer, or Jail |
| Huh, what a life |
| Listen |
| Propaganda |
| I came out a town in gangs |
| And a gang of grace |
| Cuz fo' sho' sin abounds and round these parts |
| Crowns is made of tin foil |
| And them boys play Halo with real guns |
| Lay low |
| Right there I blang slang |
| That twice born rhetoric |
| Our Papi pound the ground |
| And out came all humanity |
| Write heavy handed |
| Sharpie ink laced with mercury |
| Magnetic raps to draw out all impurities |
| Round the time the good Lord took mama winnin |
| The light bulb turned on |
| This world ain’t my home |
| I huddled up to Triage |
| With curb servers and griots |
| That’s such an L.A. reference |
| All good if you don’t get it |
| But for those who would listen |
| I break you out your radio prison |
| Redefine manhood, blackness, and time |
| Shape and define culture |
| Let me fashion you some shades |
| Introduce you to a trend that transcends the will of men |
| Lord |
| Lee Green |
| I ain’t a product |
| I ain’t apologizing |
| You ain’t a number |
| Pay them no minding |
| Ring the alarm |
| We came to redefine cutter |
| Carve truth in his heart |
| And love on her arms |
| Propoganda |
| Hey, I’m literate in graffiti |
| I am not at all kidding |
| From the heart of the city |
| That Stevie lived just enough for |
| Jackson, Mississippi: My people toiled the soil |
| And share croppers' pop coppers got they kin lynched in |
| That was the lynch pin of the mass migration into Texas |
| Rest of us would push west still |
| Manifest destiny |
| A black American family |
| Wanted better for they kids |
| And landed in Southern Cali |
| Who knew it was a war zone, my uncles got recruited in |
| Shawn and Kiona seen death out in Compton |
| But they ain’t fall victim |
| Cousin Brandon either |
| We should have framed the tax return and moved us to Covina |
| There I met the mic and spray can instead of blue rags |
| And fell in love with flairs and entiendo Spanglish |
| Stand on my own and rep the Son of Man |
| And brand my own chest so I would never blend in |
| Lord |