'Trying to get over...' like Curtis Mayfield said I was a problem child, running wild in the night Livin on a not-so-safe set of life Caught up in the rapture, quick to blast ya Neglected as a juvenile, so labelled a 'ghetto bastard' Forced to live the life of a hoodster on the prowl Goin through my life with a permanent frown But still you stood by me and you got me here safely Never turned away from me when others lost faith in me Even when I was a non-believer and doubted your existence You still shed mercy on my ignorance How can I say this, no words can't explain How much I thank you for helpin me deal with the pain For sparin my life at times I thought I was through All praise is due, here's to you So
[ CHORUS ] This is for the lover in you This is for the things that you do This time I will take up for you Cause your love's gon' last forever
Now as I reminisce like Minnie Riperton in a Pendleton I'm havin flashbacks 'lookin at these photographs' Glancin at old flicks of me and my dogs Thinkin how we all played little league football No set-trippin, we was down for one another >From pups to mutts, we came up, Westside hustlers You couldn't stop us, no matter what you told us Starched Curduroys with the fresh peachy folders Washington High School, damn, them was the days The 12th grade came and we went our own ways Doin what we had to do to make ends meet Some of us went to college and some kicked the streets Some of us passed away, some just faded Some turned snitch, and some is incarcerated Me, I been blessed to catch wreck over beats But without you, this wouldn't be complete So
[ CHORUS ]
(Ooh child, things ain't gettin any easier...) Survivin in the ghetto you gotta stay strong But realistically no man out here can make it alone Ain't no sleepin, none of us creepin I see the men that's in the streets, and Smokers fiendin, the drama got me thinkin How I need to play as if I was a Stylistic And stop and look and listen Take a second out to count my blessings Cause you coulda laid me down a long time ago But you let me live, and God knows I ain't a angel So I'ma take this opportunity to flip the script For the lover of you, cause props is due For sparin my life at times I thougth I was through I gotta give it up, here's to you So
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'Trying to get over...' like Curtis Mayfield said I was a problem child, running wild in the night Livin on a not-so-safe set of life Caught up in the rapture, quick to blast ya Neglected as a juvenile, so labelled a 'ghetto bastard' Forced to live the life of a hoodster on the prowl Goin through my life with a permanent frown But still you stood by me and you got me here safely Never turned away from me when others lost faith in me Even when I was a non-believer and doubted your existence You still shed mercy on my ignorance How can I say this, no words can't explain How much I thank you for helpin me deal with the pain For sparin my life at times I thought I was through All praise is due, here's to you So
[ CHORUS ] This is for the lover in you This is for the things that you do This time I will take up for you Cause your love's gon' last forever
Now as I reminisce like Minnie Riperton in a Pendleton I'm havin flashbacks 'lookin at these photographs' Glancin at old flicks of me and my dogs Thinkin how we all played little league football No set-trippin, we was down for one another >From pups to mutts, we came up, Westside hustlers You couldn't stop us, no matter what you told us Starched Curduroys with the fresh peachy folders Washington High School, damn, them was the days The 12th grade came and we went our own ways Doin what we had to do to make ends meet Some of us went to college and some kicked the streets Some of us passed away, some just faded Some turned snitch, and some is incarcerated Me, I been blessed to catch wreck over beats But without you, this wouldn't be complete So
[ CHORUS ]
(Ooh child, things ain't gettin any easier...) Survivin in the ghetto you gotta stay strong But realistically no man out here can make it alone Ain't no sleepin, none of us creepin I see the men that's in the streets, and Smokers fiendin, the drama got me thinkin How I need to play as if I was a Stylistic And stop and look and listen Take a second out to count my blessings Cause you coulda laid me down a long time ago But you let me live, and God knows I ain't a angel So I'ma take this opportunity to flip the script For the lover of you, cause props is due For sparin my life at times I thougth I was through I gotta give it up, here's to you So
[ CHORUS ]
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