Corner Store Candy

[Intro: Solomon Childs (unknown singer)] Turn the music stop (turn it up, turn it up, uh-huh, uh-huh) It's like I can be, they probably thought I was... (uh-huh) Really be here (uh-huh, it ain't never what it seems) (It ain't never what it seems, it ain't never what seems) Uh-huh, yeah, feel me, huh, come on (it ain't never...) [Solomon Childs] Let's start before the triple beams, and my platinum dreams Gettin kicked off the Little League teams Think I was thirteen, far from a thug Never the violent type, back in the days Never fit the criminal ways, never was raised to go sideways in the maze It's Special Ed, get the Caesar ate, nappy afro wit acne Slum bum, I'mma key, whatever happened to real brothers like Fred G (I don't know) Baby Bliss, Bottom B. Rick and B.D. (That's right, that's right) And mama said I be actin wrong, spittin game in the drug game God paid to skeet bock, give me a nickname The D.A. did it all wrong, went and laid up too long Stop writin rhymes, startin writin songs And I love all my crew, funny what money could make you say and do [Chorus 2X: Solomon Childs (unknown singer)] (Taste like candy..) and platinum dreams I think a man's life ain't always what it seems (corner story candy) Runnin from wrong teams and crush ya dream I think a man's life ain't always what it seems (candy) [Solomon Childs] Reminiscin', wishin the God, never driven the crown That was some years later, keep the kids shined Can't hide wit pride, dealin wit money Now I'm bona-fied, Solomon Childs'll reign worldwide Thinkin back what mama love can only afford A '79 Ford, that's what copped diamonds and change Rocked minks, pushed the black Accord, the God in Billboard And I'm proud to be alive, mama in community meets, tears fall from my eyes And when they ask why she cry My baby's dream always were big from the size, of since 5 Police said he would never survive But now my baby boy's on the front of the Vibe Them old timers be in front of the store Sayin that you write better when you hurt more And that's real... [Chorus 4X] [Interlude during Chorus: Solomon Childs] J.R., what? Gonna live on, hah-hah This is for the money, word we got it Right now it's time to get those notes, yo [Solomon Childs] Went from backpacks to briefcases, mixtapes of Ron G Craig G., Red Alert, S&S, and Funkmaster Flex Now the opposite sex is vexed from back in the days Givin no respect, mama said "baby enjoy ya life, take care of ya kids and wife" Style is Caribbean vacations, me and Sabrina sippin champagne playin PlayStation Went from dust bones to rulers, jail cells to buildin wit the old schoolers Liftin iceberg skirts and sippin wine coolers I used to yell, through a jail cell, that the money would come well Think forever rest well, young drop the jew-el He said, "son, never you dwell, cuz the day you repel, your thoughts'll excel And ya whole town'll wanna get down wit you personal" [Outro: Solomon Childs (unknown singer)] All of them (uh-huh, uh-huh) every last one of them (uh-huh, uh-huh) It's like yo son, all them chicks who be tryin to disrespect you (uh-huh, uh-huh) (Taste like... candy) And look past you, all them dudes Who be tryin to act like they really tryin to feel you (uh-huh, uh-huh) They all gonna feel you one day, just keep doin ya thing (Taste like... candy)