Mother Mother, mother mother

Everybody thinks were wrong

Mother, mother. Who are they

To judge us? Mother, mother

Simply cause we wear our hair long

Mother, mother Oohhhhhhhhhhhhh

Im gonna take ya'll back on this one

Mommy make me some oatmeal

The mailman outside he bringin' mo' bills

Daddy driving in his raggedy automobile

Papoose got the cooties he killed a roach ill

"Mommy Toya' keep kickin' me with them old heels"

"Boy stop trying to make a mountain out a mole hill"

I grew up in a shack just like O'Neal

Born and raised in the ghetto where it was so real

Back in the days when K' was on cold chill

We lived on the first floor, I'm from down the hill

We had to duck on the floor, they shooting off steel

They use to have shoot outs over them dope deals

They say "If he's so nice why he got no deal?"

I say my talent is something these labels won't steal

I'm doing this for them rappers up out of Brownsville

Who never went platinum they had a bad deal

Oh, make you wanna holler

The way they do my life

Make me wanna holler

The way they do my life

Yo momma so fat when she walk her booty claps

Need gloves to eat a tootsie roll, she so black

You actin' like your Mom's all that

She's so cross sighted that when she cries tears go down her back

Who ever stepped on the lines, yo' mother drink wine

Who ever stepped on the cracks, yo mother smokes crack

We told mother jokes as if we took them for granted

Drinking sugar water and eating a syrup sandwich

We threw rocks at lots, the buildings was abandoned

Father sinners was teaching, but we ain't understand it

Pissy mattresses, we was on the block flippin'

Needed some school clothes so we went shoplifting

Triple fat goose first deal big difference

Chasin' the girls, seven humps, eleven kisses

You slap box better than me, then I fought you

Smacked you in yo' face, and then start screamin' "I caught you"

Oh, make you wanna holler

The way they do my life

Make me wanna holler

The way they do my life

I was borned to rappers back then, I was nice kid

Had them red and black lumberjack just like Big

Osh Kosh B'Gosh and flat tops

Battled the human beatbox stuffed wax and skelly tops

Used G's favourite pants, Tyson was the champ

Started small time hustlin' tired of them foodstamps

Back then the dreads use to have all the weak spots

**** were scared when they used to say "what the blood clot!"

But the hood got tired of that you hood gunshots

**** started to get gun butted and what not

Tomahawks, faceheads, low lives

The ceptic cards, black spades, lil wives

GP, SSP, HBO, those are some of the new york gangs I knew

Man I'm daydreamin' off the haze I blow

I just caught a flashback, I smoked too much dro

Flashback, Flashback, Flashback