[Verse 1: Phonte]
Motherfuckers can't cry no more, when you die no more
It's a crying shame, you don't even try no more
Black suits, black ties, and obituaries handed out
Ashes to ashes, after living life hand-to-mouth
A death wish is cool, 'til its time to blow the candles out
I need some answers now, leaving your sons is tantamount
To throwing 'em straight to the wolves
And everybody saying they'd be different if they had a man around
He loved his work and his women built like a Clydesdale
Went to the city in search of supreme clientele
And back to the country, frontin' like he Mr. Drysdale
Just an illusion, a ruse, an ol' wives tale
While I was in the 'Boro, where the dope and the gun work
Had the whole 'hood soundin' like Dunkirk
Starin' at my celing fan, tryin' to be a man
Wishin' I had a chance to be a son first
[Interlude: Dialogue]
"You know, it's crazy, 'cause like when I was a kid
My dad used to pick me up from school
He was an executive chef and he would bring me to the kitchen
I would be so excited to cook
And you know he'd be like, 'Nah, you need to, you need to prep
You need to do preparation.'
And I didn't understand it at the time
But he was teaching me about life"
[Verse 2: Phonte]
They ask me where I been – dog, I been rebuilding
With my wiz and children
Put my Pops in the ground, then hit the repast and
Ate the same shit that killed him
Your habits didn't deviate, just thought you would appreciate
My moms used to say I was a whore just like you
So, Ma, I ran through even more, just to spite you
And, Pops, my health is doin' pretty good, despite you
I try, so I don't die at 54, just like you
Cold – I'm one snowflake away from an avalanche
My first teachers were masters of self-sabotage
My momma walking slower these days, she got a stent
Still on them Newports, where's your fuckin' common sense?
Pardon my French, I'm just still unconvinced
That as young as you are, soon, I'll be takin' care of you
I get it, you're the one who did the raising, I'm the son
But I'm not ready to cry at your Lorraine Hansberry-al
You can't undo it, you either succumb to it
Make the adjustment, or just become numb to it
Looking over your life like, "What have I done?" to it
Knowing your bloodline is the river that runs through it
My sons look at me these days and think I'm certified
Preparing them for a world they'll be deserted by
Internalize, Black man – if you get a teaspoon of compassion
That's more than double the serving size
I get impatient, shit is taking too long
They don't get it, I really lived it, you can say what you want
'Cause by the time you realize that your father was right
You'll probably have your own son telling you that you wrong
But be his ride-or-die, even if you two ain't seein' eye to eye
Teach him how to throw a punch, ride a bike, tie a tie
Hold on to 'em while you can, this is just what I advise
[Outro: child's voice, live host]
Tiggalo, Tiggalo, Tiggalo, Tiggalo...
Nah, nah, nah, nah, fuck that, piano man! Keep playing!
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