paroles de chanson Mother Of God - MIKE feat. V. Bonema

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Swear I'm getting too old for the dumb shit
They tryna turn my soul into nothing, yeah
Remember Broadway, bowl for the dumplings
Remember hard days, was with the fuck shit
Now I'm 'bout to leave the clothes back in London
This is gold, this a toast to my youngins
This a ode to when I'm gone or when I'm done here
'Cause this black skin really making sons stare
Without the packs with weed for my blunt, yeah
With the pack, I bet the weed wouldn't come here
And I'm attached, see these streets, yeah, I love it
This a pact to my team, it's a conference
Going deeper in this hole in this dungeon
To the point where I don't even want shit
Just freedom and a little bit of loving
Just freedom and a little bit of love

Why are you always sitting around?
Would you not like to get up and do something?
You know hard it is to take care of two kids when you still have to go to school and work?
You gotta do better
You say you're trying, but you maybe try harder
I don't wanna say it, I don't know you gotta say to her now
Try harder