J. Han - Cleaner's Kid lyrics

[Hook] Homie this' the life of a cleaners kid Living mediocre with a family biz We gotta stay grinding; say goodbye to weekends Cause you're helping at the shop -- no retreating Homie this' the life of a cleaners kid Forget about sabbaticals or family trips We gotta stay grinding; say goodbye to weekends Cause you're helping at the shop -- no retreating [Verse 1: J. Han] I know about the long hours and the time they would put-in 12 was a minimum; the meager pay was k**ing 'em; Neighborhood wasn't feeling 'em; arthritis was creeping-in; Blue collar work wasn't really a thrilling gig But they kept at it, barely stayed static With a resolve to get nice with the pragmatics So they tussled, working every muscle To know the ins and outs of this dry cleaning hustle Lugging buckets and carts, whether tiny or large Of dirty clothes from 30 year olds yapping and dropping them off They dealt with the worst of 'em, but still had a smile-on Up-charging for silk when their blouse was really nylon I was told to never burn your bridges; hold your tongue When they shun you for your slanted eyes, slandering your yellow kind They felt it everyday while doing business in the ghetto Telling the young James to observe and take a memo [Hook] [Verse 2: Lyricks] Ain't no summer like a dry cleaning summer Mama stays skinny and she never was a runner To me The strongest lady maybe, the woman's crazy I mean it could 180 degrees because of steam But never did she break down Always had a great smile Pray aloud singing hymns GOD fearing / Innocent She's the example of a hard working immigrant Came across abroad w my pops to make her dividends And now here it is. Me and my mom Sweating while setting the sweaters on mechanical lines We cleaned skirts, shirts, bras, down to the underwear Lunch time mom would have the kimchi in the Tupperware Best lunch ever, wash our hands then go back to work She be on the presser, I go back to my bagging shirts When customers came, "cleaner's kid" is what they labeled us Grew up with the twisty-ties, reloading my staplers [Hook] [Verse 3: J. Han] I know how it feels to see your parents laughed at Tripping over their words while folks supplied laugh tracks Wanting to defend 'em against their spewing venom But realized that kindness was truly the greatest weapon I saw strength in their meekness, valor in their mannerisms Were they in the deep end -- their worth being cheapened? I witnessed countless amounts -- bitter accounts -- Of people muttering aspersions under their mouths Did they miss out on living the real dream -- American built? Did they mistake silt for gold? Was it a gilt Painted on a bunch rocks? Oh my gosh, what a mockery it made Of these immigrants that stayed Paving legacies of pain with perseverance -- never faint My father was a master with the iron, k**ing stains Mixing solvents; solving problems with my mother as a team She was the smarts, plus impressive with the seams [Hook]