Lyrics
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
Pops was a roller, on the streets
He’d beat the young busters he used to meet
I mean scandalous, all I heard was in the contrary
Yo, that’s why the Prod is no fairy
Papa was a hustler, so I wanted to sling
To live up to the name I claim
Mama cried, tryin to stop me in my ignorance
But I was grown, I didn’t have sense
All I knew I was poor, black, broke and hungry
And the streets, they were callin me So I stepped, ready and willing to be a G To make it easy for my family and me As for pops, I never got to see the man
But I heard he took matters in his own hand
In the streets he was up on it, well renowned
And if you put him down, yo, then go down
Hard, I won’t take charts, I serve charts
Pimpin hoes and breakin hearts
On the for realer my nigga, yo, plain and simple
The man’s back, but now he’s uptempo
I never had a chance to see him
Never heard nothin but bad things about him
Brother, I’m depending on you
To tell me the truth
Pops was a roller, moms seems to tell me Well respected by all, that’s what I wanna be Hardcore, in the streets I’d be a macker
Quick to smack a, yo, or even jack a Soft-hearted brother, pops was a roller
Gamin a dub and now here comes his son
Street-smart, on the dice he was a straight G On the dice my pops would get busy
Yeah, my pops was a true pimp
He kept a nine and a gangsta limp
Whoever owed him money got beat cause he ran the streets
Like a G and brought people mysery
I heard pops used to hang out
On the corner gettin drunk and beatin niggas’brains out
I got a name to uphold, so I hit the streets
Broke as hell to take what belongs to me
I saw money, moms said: Yo, Havikk, please
Leave the streets, then I thought of clockin gees
Jack of all trades, like pops I ran the street scene
It’s my turn to roll and live life a king
I heard papa called himself a jack of all trades
Tell me is that what sent papa to an early grave
Folks said papa would beg, borrow or steal
To pay his bills
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
Cold fakin, never ever on the home front
Beatin moms, yo, pop was a punk
Smokin lleyo and drinkin 8Ball
Thinkin small and tryin to be tall
I was a kid but still I can say this
Pop was tryin to game in a quiz
In the streets he got beat down
Wearin a frown he came home, playin moms like a weak sound
??? more fools that you’re askin
Told the truth, G’s you’d be faded
So you better chill, punk, or get smacked
Huh, smack me and I smack you back
My brother
Folks said papa was never much on thinkin
Spendin most of his time chasin women and drinkin
Brother, I’m depending on you
To tell me the truth
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
