Mark Ronson - The Corner lyrics

[Intro: Saigon] Mark Ron. Saigon. Paint the windows black. It's over now [Verse 1: Saigon] Finally home from up north, sh**. Already, talk leaking through the faucet ‘Cause I ain't slinging horse sh**, they think that I'm on some soft sh** 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 the crown When you locked down, your mind frame remaining in town You hardly ever had nightmares of getting slain on the Nile Fast as they release me, I done turned on 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 is what you promise me.” “Mommy, honestly, look: I got strikes first. With a n***a, 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.” [Chorus: [?]] 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 [Verse 2: Saigon] 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 n***as was in they 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 (Where was I?) Captivated by garments, Rugers with the chrome compartments Teenagers with keys to they own apartment Young king. My corner park bench Told this n***a Drab, 50 slabs, just got out his sixth rehab The f** 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 sh** indirectly affected me Same n***a 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 court yard 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 k**ing four patients with one pill and it's ill But it's real And it's ill, but it's real, but it's ill, but it's real… [Chorus: [?]] (x2) 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