2700
It's hard to sleep with these loudhelicopters surrounding me
My place of peace
At least it try to be
On the outside ain't really nothing but
Hood violence , Dope feins, irresponsible youngsters
And sometimes the occasional awkward silence
Oh yeah, and sad black people
Driving frantically on our streets
Are terrified whites, tryna get back to their side of town
After slaving a 9-5 in my city
Where they are free to make jokes
About how i'm living
Like I chose this
Who in their right mind would wanna live like this
On the flipside
There's hope, security, and direction
Inside of my home
No matter the location
I strive for
Yearn for
And DEMAND
My God's connection
“You here right?”
Cause I ain't gotta strap to my name
Not even a bulldeuce deuce
I swear to you
All these prayers I been sending are fuel
To remove me and my son from this turmoil
I promise I'm not with all the fame
I'm just tryna live right
Maybe you won't think I’m too lame
And leave me in the hood to rot
And sleep on my dreams
This shack
This low-income housing
This poorly built duplex
This gang infested patio…
This stove with only two working eyes.
These lights that can’t keep a shine
Flickering, in and out…
Still.
Home is where the heart is.
