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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Kojey Radical
Kojey Radical
Vocals
Ed Thomas
Ed Thomas
Piano
Jay Weathers
Jay Weathers
Programming
Christina Matovu
Christina Matovu
Additional Vocals
Dayna Fisher
Dayna Fisher
Bass Guitar
Ezme Gaze
Ezme Gaze
Cello
Wayne Urquhart
Wayne Urquhart
Cello
O. Koleoso
O. Koleoso
Drums
Neil Waters
Neil Waters
Trumpet
Trevor Mires
Trevor Mires
Trombone
Charlie Stock
Charlie Stock
Viola
Stella Page
Stella Page
Viola
Antonia Pagulatos
Antonia Pagulatos
Violin
Emma Blanco
Emma Blanco
Violin
Marsha Skinns
Marsha Skinns
Violin
Sam Kennedy
Sam Kennedy
Violin
Olufemi David Koleoso
Olufemi David Koleoso
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ed Thomas
Ed Thomas
Composer
Jay Weathers
Jay Weathers
Composer
Kwadwo Adu Genfi Amponsah
Kwadwo Adu Genfi Amponsah
Composer
Neil Waters
Neil Waters
String Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ed Thomas
Ed Thomas
Producer
Jay Weathers
Jay Weathers
Producer
Cameron Palmer
Cameron Palmer
Producer
Kwame “KZ” Kwei-Armah Jr.
Engineer
Swindle
Swindle
Executive Producer

Lyrics

I think my momma was a gangsta I think my daddy was a Rolling Stone I was looking for some answers While forgetting there was rice at home That's every day, that's every day with it, yeah And every night that she would pray for me, yeah Tell the devil, "Keep away from me", yeah "Feed my soul and fix a plate for me", yeah I think my momma was a hustler And had to double up Felt the love when she was tough with us I had to toughen up Think my daddy is still in love with her But not in love with love Didn't get it 'til I got it Probably where I got it from I dot my I's and cross my T's But in thе streets I'm troublesome Did my best to keep it low kеy But my momma worrisome, I worry too I worry, worry when the trouble follow us When I was scared, she gave me hugs But knew she couldn't coddle us 'Cause it gets scary in this wild, wild world Wild, wild world But it's all I know My momma told me that this life get cold Life get cold But it still goes on I think my momma was a gangsta I think my daddy was a Rolling Stone I was looking for some answers While forgetting there was rice at home That's every day, that's every day with it, yeah (that's every day, that's every day) And every night that she would pray for me, yeah Tell the devil, "Keep away from me", yeah "Feed my soul and fix a plate for me", yeah My son mother was a hustler, forever proud of her Wrote a book and raised a king Fuck whoever doubted her Did our best to do our best Even when it didn't work Lord knows I ain't perfect and I caused a lot of hurt I could blame it on my trauma, but I put my healin' first Moonwalkin' through the fire, a generational curse My son gettin' big, he gettin' tall, get gettin' handsome If he got my pen, I'm bettin' he goin' platinum No good at the lullabies, I'm better when I rap to him Wishin' I could call my dad, just so I could chat to him Maybe it's a culture thing Wonder what the answer was My momma said, "Forgive misses Go handle your businesses" 'Cause it gets scary in this wild, wild world Wild, wild world But it's all I know My momma told me that this life get cold Life get cold But it still goes on I think my momma was a gangsta I think my daddy was a Rolling Stone I was looking for some answers While forgetting there was rice at home That's every day, that's every day with it, yeah (that's every day, that's every day) And every night that she would pray for me, yeah Tell the devil, "Keep away from me", yeah "Feed my soul and fix a plate for me", yeah I think my momma was a gangsta (I think my momma was a gangsta) I think my daddy was a Rolling Stone (yeah) I was looking for some answers (yeah, yeah) While forgetting there was rice at home (ah) That's every day, that's every day with it, yeah (that's every day, that's every day) And every night that she would pray for me, yeah (every night) Tell the devil, "Keep away from me", yeah (devil, keep away from me) "Feed my soul and fix a plate for me", yeah (fix a plate, fix a plate) Go, go momma Go momma Go, go, go momma Go, go, go momma Go, go, go Get it, get it, get it Hey, hey, get it, get it, hey Go, go momma Go momma Go, go, go momma Go, go, go momma Go, go, go Get it, get it, get it Hey, hey, get it, get it, hey (You're doing very well) (I'm so proud of you, what you are doing) (Very, very well) (You can't do any more than what you are doing)
Writer(s): Jay Weathers, Kwame Abayomi Nunya Kwei-armah, Ed Thomas, Cameron Lewis Palmer, Kwadwo Adu Genfi Amponsah Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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