My Life - Chris Ward

It’s not real to be hard, in fact it’s hard to be real

And you gotta been through it, to know how I feel

I stood still plenty of times, my back against the wall

Crying for help, but nobody answered my call

And all I can do is reminisce, when I was a kid

Growing up, there’s a lot I could of changed that I did

And now, I intend to adjust myself

Though I’m grown I still hear voices whispering, (can I trust myself)

I use to wanna grab for a gun, and bust myself

But that ain’t right, and Lord knows I would of disgust myself

I had to move alone, and prove 'em wrong

They John Q’s boy, showed that I’m too strong

I’m from the small section, we call the Y-Stone

Where our world and lifestyle, spins fast as a cyclone

And it seems, everytime one of my dogs get home

It’s like five-six-seven or eight, others get gone

And I know that it’s hard, out here

I hate to complain, but Lord I swear

I’m just trying to hold on, better yet I’m trying to keep it together

I got the puzzle, but I can’t seem to put these pieces together

I’m on that other shit, that born and raised in the gutter shit

Where most of these niggas come up, trying to slang that butter shit

There’s no longer a war on Iraq, there’s a war on the black

Right now in every ghetto, there’s a war on crack

See, the moral of my story is

There’s nothing out here, that can make you notorious

Cause money don’t make the man, just make what he got

But materialistically, that’s what most folk think it’s about and that’s fucked

up

(*talking*)

Uh, I wanna send some shout out’s right quick, yeah

Holla at my little sisters and, J-Weezy, what’s up Jenny

Saqoia got ya, this one right here for y’all, Kiesh'

Cindo, Lil' Nick, my big sister Nicola, Whitebread Peckerwood