Saigon - The Corner lyrics

Mark Ron saigon paint the windows
Black it’s over now

Finally home from up north, shit already
Talk leaking through the faucet
‘Cause, I ain’t slinging horse shit
They think that I’m on some soft shit
Whatever, God i’ma work hard to find me a job
If that don’t work
Let them be the first jerks that I rob
But no
I’m trying change it around tired of being
Chained to the ground from Africa
We came with a crown
When you’re locked down
Your mind frame remaining in town
You hardly ever had nightmares of
Getting slain on the Nile
Fast as they released me
I done turned out my man who want
To piece me with a key, see
To flip it whenev’ it easy
But now I’m job hunting
Feeling the more aggravation
Knowing when they seen "Convicted
" they tore the application
They probably placed it in the wastebin
While I’m at the crib
Pacing, waiting impatient for a
Call they ain’t making
And if I baked a cake
Then my momma be stressing honesty
Here and now like, "Honey
What happens ain’t what you promised me"
"Mommy, honestly, look: I got strikes
First with a nigga, second
They think I was living hectic ‘cause
I got a prison record
You think they believe I did
Dirt but was disinfected?
No, they just neglect to tell me
If I come in there, i was misdirected"

From the
Street corner to the jail cell block
Lost souls, crack fiends, and crooked cops
Crime sprees, cheap wine, trees
And drug spots they say it’s all good when
It’s really all not
Someone is crying i feel your pain
Swallow your tears and call out my name
A lifetime of sorrow gets burned in the flame
The sun comes tomorrow to chase away the rain

Yo, how couldn’t I serve fiends? There was
Fifty-six in my building
I even hit the souper with
Something for fixing our ceiling
I was the only kid at thirteen
Out at four in the morning
Niggas was in their mirrors
I was on the corner yawning
Running with kids that was wanted
Murder ones and beyond the
Police reacting off any info
The informants respond with
(There was I) , captivated by garments
Rugers with the chrome compartments
Teenagers with keys to their own apartments
Young king
My corner park bench sold this nigga Drab
50 slabs just got out his
Sixth rehab the fuck
Did I care? The hell of a
Hole in his cerebellum come
Dummy wanna smoke jumbs? Dammit
I’m selling him some
That was my attitude after that
Street life molested me
Listen so you can see how
Shit indirectly affected me
Same nigga Drab who I told you
I sold them slabs to
Needed more to maintain and was down
To do what he had to
Walked up on this old lady
Put his hand in his pocket and told her
"Give me the purse!" She screamed
Hoping the coppers would roll up
He grabbed the purse
Which was strapped to her opposite shoulder
She hit her head and leg when she fell
But her noggin was swoller
Before anyone could stop to console her
Drab was showing me
What he got in his hold-up noticed
My mother wallet hold up! My brain blanked
Swore before God looked to see
One of my old report cards splattered
Drabbled over the courtyard
No, my ma never recovered
From my backless war
Fractured skull said she might walk again
But they ain’t sure
Drab moms still wanted relentlessly
When they sentenced me
She requested that I get
No less than infinity
All of this is fiction
But just as well could’ve been real
What they call killing four patients with
One pill and it’s ill but it’s real
And it’s ill, but it’s real, and it’s ill
But it’s real

From the
Street corner to the jail cell block
Lost souls, crack fiends, and crooked cops
Crime sprees, cheap wine, trees
And drug spots they say it’s all good when
It’s really all not
Someone is crying i feel your pain
Swallow your tears and call out my name
A lifetime of sorrow gets burned in the flame
The sun comes tomorrow to chase away the rain