June

[Verse 1: Copywrite] RJD2, drop that shit, so I can drop my thoughts Driftin' away, and depress all within listening range Nah, but for real, I got so much shit on my mind From fake motherfuckers, to my future, I'm trying to get in line And doing Hip-Hop in this life and time ain't all nice and fine At times, I feel like my whole life's a rhyme Full of punchlines and jokes, fuck-ups and punch-ins It's like I just can't get shit right the first time or somethin' When no one knows your name, your vinyl still in stores Once you get a little light, they're arguing over who feels it more We got sixteen year-old net-heads buying garbage Wanting to keep you for their personal private artist We don't do shit for the clubs As far as 45's go – RJ’s the archaeologist, diggin' 'em up And I'm the Satan sent, to vinyl with consent to bash In this for life, until my final mic check is cashed [Break: Instrumental] [Verse 2: Copywrite] (Yo...) I can't fully become my mother's guiding light 'Til my dad returns to tell me what the other side is like I keep the things you taught, trapped in mind I know you cared, even though you weren't here half the time But who am I to blame? I'd probably do the same in your shoes I never held that against you, complained, or assumed You never went through what I'm living Hell, who am I kidding? Depression is practically part of family tradition So I keep the time we shared close It sucks to lose It also sucks we had to share the month of June I would've shared eternal time before I left Each month I celebrate my birth, I'm reminded of your death