November 6, you still don't know enough about me
My father hates me my brother could give a fuck about me
I struggle with knowing if this is a seed that I planted
Or was it destined to confront the pride that I insulated

I grew up sensitive, not wanting to cause a beef
Back in the 90's that was weak and they would always test your sweet
Fights I didn't pick, but had to handle my own
Happened less in the street, a little more in my home

One year we didn't speak...that's my father's influence
Mindless arguments over things that were useless
Flames that still burn because you kept propane
Sadly we may never really grow to know our pain

My first example for a black man was a hustler
And his sons grew up to be the thing that he loved
So I struggle with that, and I struggle with trust
And I struggle with hate, overcoming the love

And people passed a lot to me I'm watching those people pass
They tell me keep my head high when you show me your ass
Worst thing I could do, is close the door on the chance
But if I learned from my father, I know you can't change a man

And I was mad about that, enough to pack up a bag
Put myself onto school, and I just took what I had
Trying to grad, Good or Bad, I just chose to accept it
Ignoring you was the song, and I'm still playing that record
And that meant I made choices
And that meant I hurt people
I can only pray that they don't set me up to get equal

Healing takes time, the peeling takes longer
And if its burning to bad then put some ointment on it
Cause we've all Got Sh*t