Momma in My Ear

Young Chop on the beat [Hook] Yeah, momma on my mind I got momma in my ear, my woman on my back Gotta get this cheese to get up out this trap Taking penitentiary chances, playing Russian Roulette Ducking out police, trying to cheat the angel of death [Verse 1: Mikkey Halsted] I learned the cheat code from real niggas Got out the house early, I was a field nigga Let's be honest, these artists don't paint the real picture I try to listen but honestly, I don't feel niggas I was Polo, Nautica, Hilfiger Been fresh to death, therefore we spill liquor You dummies don't even get it, do you Rapping my life, you suckas don't even live it, do you From where pussies get fucking wetter Still my daddy made me fight them niggas head up' I dig the knowledge, I hope these cowawrds is read up Funerals get expensive, I hope that you got your bread up Go ahead and jump out that window I stopped playing with niggas after Nintendo I know you niggas is pillow You want to understand Mikkey, it's this simple [Hook] [Verse 2: Mikkey Halsted] Bury so many family I'm feeling numb So many homies, it hurts even worse when they young Sometimes I ain't proud of where I'm from I wonder if momma's proud of what I've become She say she is but I know that she wanted more from me Know that God got something special in store for me See, the journey just made me more hungry I'm not bitch, need no man to open the door for me I wish daddy could see me, my granny could feed me Her famous lemon cake, wish scarface never plugged G.D And my cousin Cee-lo Reed was here to hear my CD I gotta step up in his daughter's life, I know she needs me Chasing Lamborghinis, I'm merciless Overdo it, every line is superfluous Chicago the place that birthed this shit But we claim the whole universe as our turf [Hook] [Verse 3: Pusha T] Yech, I can't escape the slander The irony of "I escaped the slammer" Guess I'm Houdini in that motherfucking manor Local authorities can't oppress my grandeur They see me three ways, MTV with the VJs Any mag cover or TSA in my PJ Whoo, I fly 'em every so often When I die, Maserati rig the coffin Thirteen millionaires on the run to Boston Call spades by the racist ass Massachusetts officers Digest, put it together niggas Ha, I was simply being clever, niggas Lucky for you, this ain't my sole endeavor, nigga Or you'd be calling me Hov or even better, nigga Whoo, notorious Push It's only so long that the gods overlooked one