Sunday Church

Before tour offers would hit the mail /
Some of the friends would swim in powder, hit the scales /
The same friends turned fake, shaking that tinkerbell /
Me? I thank God that I could rip a mic and give them hell /
Look, I was lost at sea in a paper boat / Looking for solid ground,
eager to shape some hope /
Created poems, that was my addiction, so I stayed at home /
While so called friends were roaming the shaky roads /
They showed their true stripes and quickly bailed /
And they shipped themselves into a shipwreck tale /
While this kid set sail, got away from f*ckers that were so toxic they could
probably sh*t chemtrails /
A carefree bunch of Goldilocks with hunger for bear meat /
F*ck em, cause T Money was on that squared screen /
Stayed near my VCR to watch all the rap heat when broken, started flowing,
somehow that repaired me
(I guess)
Some stay with their curse, I got away from the hurt, made my lane and got
great at taping a verse / What I say is in a way I was purged cause Yo MTV Raps
every Sunday was my church (Yeah)
Before tour offers would hit the mail /
My old man found a bottle, thought it would wish him well /
He is still serving life inside a glassy prison cell /
Me? I thank God that I could rip a mic and give them hell /
Yo! MTV Raps provided the nasty rhythims /
Inspired, the fire was burning, I felt a transition /
From being sloppy to being mad driven /
Till I heard that demons gave my pops another alcohol baptism /
I lost creative transmission plus I was terrified that the same demons would
reside inside my messy mind /
When times are tough that sh*t is verified /
But not jeopardizing this music is where the treasure lies /
My pops will probably never take the trip to get clean /
And the demons will never stop their whisper to me /
But lucky me, I was presented a dream /
What if Dr Dre & Ed Lover had never been on that screen
(I guess that)