Phonte - Who Loves You More lyrics

[Verse One] She ran out the house like, "f** it I'm leaving" He ran out after her like "f** is the meaning?" Went through his phone and found texts from all his ex's Threw it at him like, "f** was you thinking?" Way down in his stomach he's getting that sinking Feeling he felt 20 years before when His pops sat him down and told him and his mom was divorcing Now he's doing the same Running through these hoes with no proper decorum Not a pretty picture Unsettled miser-y, he would say his pop was a dog Now ain't that the pot calling the kettle "n***a" Every player dreams of leaving the game, straight walking out The allure of new p**y is cool, but when it's over what the f** you got to talk about? Such an empty feeling, you win or you lose Wifey told him, "It's them or me and baby, you better choose." Hey! [Hook: Eric Robinson] I saw the clouds today and thought that it was time to say goodbye (Who loves you more? Who loves you more?) (Every little thing about you babe) I tried to change my ways and pray that maybe I can save my life (Who loves you more? Who loves you more?) (Every little thing about you babe) [Verse Two] My cousin hit me up and said he had to post bail again Cause my brother back in jail again Back in that slave ship cause he tried to sell again And all that's going through my mind is "How the f** am I failing him?" These youngins want all of the spoils but none of the toils Got me climbing the walls Too good to press olives but'll be the first squeaky wheel asking for oil I've been at it for 10 years, "What the f** is you on?" Had me frustrated like, "What the f** do you want?" He come to me for answers but I don't know what to tell him Part bad parenting, part youthful rebellion He wanna buy a dream but I don't know what to sell him, sh** They say the streets turn n***as into sinners But them jail cells be turning n***as into dinner So they sing in the summer, be home by the winter Interrogation room be turning n***as into tenors And he's no singer, but put him on the block, he got that perfect pitch I just want him to understand that you work for this You can win or you lose But it's either me or the streets and brother you gotta choose Love [Hook] [Verse Three] Some get hand picked, others get picked on Some get a hand up, others get dissed on I came from the bottom where the guns got withdrawn All lows, no highs man, get a stiff arm See me doing records so they think it makes a lot But really I'm just trying to make Salat like I was raised Islam Praying that the ends justify the means Cause most of my heroes had f**ed up lives Coked up kids and three or four wives Hoes in every city, enough side b**hes for three or four tribes From Marvin to Basquiat, it comes with a caveat And that's the gospel like three or four choirs Gotta room with a microphone and all this time I just sat by the window and looked inside Didn't like what I found, but you win or you lose Make a living or have a life, guess that I gotta choose One... [Hook] [Outro] I got a room and a microphone And family that I ain't seen in months And I played this record a million times, just hoping you would play it once Ha, break bread with your fellow man Show love but look out for your heart And always take care of home Because home is where charity starts Because home is where charity starts Home is where charity starts [Exhale] Thank. God