Текст песни Call Your Mom - 7dashine

Nowadays it's different, we don't ever talk
Raised in a city outlined in white chalk
Police tapes, so there's very few places that we could walk
Finally got my head straight, then I beat the charge

Nothing compares to being seventeen
Courtroom, mom crying, son facing a felony
It wasn't that deep, but I value her over everything
My cousin had a baby at nineteen

I'm starting to think about how that feel
I'm twenty-one, trying to make a mill
Back then I was trying to make a meal
Out of scraps,
Getting too attached
Looking for a bag
Now my mom called, like, where you at

I've been on the road, no looking back
Got no self-control, don't know how to act
Gotta keep the windows closed, looking for a bag
It gets cold in this city when you're moving fast

I've been on the road, no looking back
Got no self-control, don't know how to act
Gotta keep the windows closed, looking for a bag
It gets cold in this city when you're moving fast

Who's that creeping in my window?
Florida boys playing with extendos

Do what you gotta when the rent low
Uneducated, but I gotta check, though
How you feel?
Oh, that's really how you feel?
My loved ones locked up, the others holding steal
Pray to God, but cash rules everything, it always will
That's when you're forced to push weight, cause you're late on the bills

Look at me now, ma, your son don't gotta try
Ask me what I wanna write, that shit that make my brother cry
If you slide, I'm sliding too, tell me when I'm riding through
Whatever you tryna do, don't gotta say I'm proud of you

My other brother was pushing drugs in the sixth grade
Around the time I dropped my first mixtape
Now the whole city is afraid of us
And I ain't seen my sister in a minute, cause

I've been on the road, no looking back
Got no self-control, don't know how to act
Gotta keep the windows closed, looking for a bag
It gets cold in this city when you're moving fast

I've been on the road, no looking back
Got no self-control, don't know how to act
Gotta keep the windows closed, looking for a bag
It gets cold in this city when you're moving fast

I just saw you crying at some bitch shit
Big switch shit, flying they call me a misfit
You don't wanna risk this, two or three nines on my chains
I'm artistic, and I got the crew
They be staying with the vision, making shit a business
Open minds, they be tryna figure who the kid is
She couldn't resist it, put him on a hit list

Why you acting like I wasn't in the rain
I died in second grade
And a profit took my place
Making profit just to stay
Anywhere that I would
Cause back then I wished that I had a place that was good
Mr. Misunderstood,
Mr. Fuck is your issue
The fuck is you crying bout
I'm sending your dad to come get you
Wonder why no one get you
If you mad at the world, then take it upon yourself
Run out and get you a pistol
No one over here miss you
Go on and make us proud
Go just shit on the world and then make a record about it

These are the thoughts that I have when I'm missing home
Say your area code and try to pick up the phone, but