Broken Homes
SadBoy Loko
GENRE
[Verse]
Broken homes, mothers getting left alone
My ass should know, I did to my fucking own
Right or wrong, either way it’s in the past
Late night I hear echoes of them saying dad
What have I done?
Man I miss my fucking son
My oldest daughter, can’t forget about my little one
Our problem’s solved? Naw still the same
I argue with their bitch ass mom every other day
It’s like we reading a page up on the same book
I be the bad guy in the story, label me the crook
You try calling your daughter every afternoon
To ask the same fucking question “how’d you do in school?”
“Was it cool?” “Did you learn something new?”
Daddy’s busy all the time and it’s all for you
Sad but true, one day you’ll realize
But every other choice I made was to make things right
I’d sacrifice everything I have
Not to mention, sold drugs just to be a good dad
By the first, shit I could throw my dough
And tax foos around the twenty if my ass was short
I ain’t perfect but lord just know I’m trying
All the love ones are the numbers that you’re calling, why?
I understand we all have to go
But why did you take Lil Wyno and Drowsy Loks?
But Big Bullet, Duende are we cursed?
The day I leave out some Dayton’s on my fucking hearse
The ones I’ve hurt, fuck you ain’t nothing change
Better pray we don’t meet on your judgement day
There’s only two ways, the good or bad
I try to laugh around my boys, deep inside I’m mad
Pop that bottle as I reminisce
The good times with the ones that I surely miss
Even though you’re gone, your memory lives on
They say the good die young, guess I’m here for long
Or could it be I got a guardian angel
You took care of your boy without asking for a favor
Everyone’s full with greed, not me
I’ll split a mil up in half so we both can eat
A couple months before, before I had a home
I was in hotel rooms bouncing back and fourth
With a few pair of clothes and the one on me
Sometimes I wouldn’t ride so my fam could sleep
I’m from the ghetto eloteros even grind for theirs
Most G’s I know hustle and the ratchets do hair
Take pride in how you grinding in whatever you do
Late night with crackheads and the rest of them foos
I don’t look at the time, I stay on my grind
My ex-bitch wanna trip cause I never arrive
Broken homes, mothers getting left alone
My ass should know, I did to my fucking own
Right or wrong, either way it’s in the past
Late night I hear echoes of them saying dad
What have I done?
Man I miss my fucking son
My oldest daughter, can’t forget about my little one
Our problem’s solved? Naw still the same
I argue with their bitch ass mom every other day
It’s like we reading a page up on the same book
I be the bad guy in the story, label me the crook
You try calling your daughter every afternoon
To ask the same fucking question “how’d you do in school?”
“Was it cool?” “Did you learn something new?”
Daddy’s busy all the time and it’s all for you
Sad but true, one day you’ll realize
But every other choice I made was to make things right
I’d sacrifice everything I have
Not to mention, sold drugs just to be a good dad
By the first, shit I could throw my dough
And tax foos around the twenty if my ass was short
I ain’t perfect but lord just know I’m trying
All the love ones are the numbers that you’re calling, why?
I understand we all have to go
But why did you take Lil Wyno and Drowsy Loks?
But Big Bullet, Duende are we cursed?
The day I leave out some Dayton’s on my fucking hearse
The ones I’ve hurt, fuck you ain’t nothing change
Better pray we don’t meet on your judgement day
There’s only two ways, the good or bad
I try to laugh around my boys, deep inside I’m mad
Pop that bottle as I reminisce
The good times with the ones that I surely miss
Even though you’re gone, your memory lives on
They say the good die young, guess I’m here for long
Or could it be I got a guardian angel
You took care of your boy without asking for a favor
Everyone’s full with greed, not me
I’ll split a mil up in half so we both can eat
A couple months before, before I had a home
I was in hotel rooms bouncing back and fourth
With a few pair of clothes and the one on me
Sometimes I wouldn’t ride so my fam could sleep
I’m from the ghetto eloteros even grind for theirs
Most G’s I know hustle and the ratchets do hair
Take pride in how you grinding in whatever you do
Late night with crackheads and the rest of them foos
I don’t look at the time, I stay on my grind
My ex-bitch wanna trip cause I never arrive
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