Lyrics:
Rain began to fall softly as she gazed around the room.
Even now she wondered what went wrong.
A letter in her hand trembled as she placed it by
last cry
Thought you slid enough on yo last slide
Get hit wit some shit my papa shot from a past life
Yea I know thats right
Writing this letter
sorry"
Guilt eating up my bones
Don't got no place to go
Ran away from my home, now I'm hoping I'll make it home
Stuck in this nightmare, I swear I'm in
You know I got that act right
To be home by three and put you straight to sleep
She know I got that love me longtime
How deep is yo love come show me
I got kicked out for conduct
Jail by fifteen
Who'd you think writ me?
First letter from Mum, second from Sonya
"Dear Justin, I ain't gonna judge
10 a.m. it's west side bitch
She see the glasses, so obvious
Run from home, after tonight we up out of here
Don't go home 'cause they just ran me up
vessels to hold the whole world
Of the strayed away
Letters of home from here
Tell fortune and cheer
How can they believe it
From someone who strays away?
It reminds me, that it's not so bad
It's not so bad
Dear Slim, I wrote you but you still ain't callin'
I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone
When the postman delievered a letter it filled her dear heart full of joy
But she didn't know till she read the end sign
It was the last one from
and tend to shatter
She like that shit don't matter
When I get home get at her
Through letter, phone, whatever
Let's link, let's get together
Shit, you
like a glared i had to make a
Stand in the mirror they ain’t terror by gang fellas /bout my cheddar get’m barreta as clever then my last letter /
Now
about home all the while
Travelled this land from coast to coast
Now it's time that I go home
I met a lady in Stockton Town
Said I always let her down
became by us
The situation requires the almighty formula
So I'm mixing numbers with letters now it's looking like algebra
Do the maths I got the masters
the globe
And come right back to where I started
And you can tell them I ain't coming home
Till I get exactly what I wanted
So I moved on from that young shit
of living
New way of looking at life
He had an '84 International and two kids
He left back home with his wife.
He was tired of writin' letters
home with his wife.
Out on the Trans-Canada Highway
The sun came climbing up the cab
By the time it hit the window they were wakin' up
From what
grow flowers up from my grave
I don't hide the big guns, not like my Hanes
Not like the letter that I found in the safe
When I was 10 I used to think
"Letter to John Pace Seavering from Denis McCleary
Dated 12 June 1936"
Dear John
Yes, I'm writing
After all this time
How's the publishing game
from hurricanes to a slow rain
Your thoughts are so plane, I rearrange your whole frame
Until my whole name grow out your brain like Rogaine
Letter by
a plug and then got on (uh)
I could have made my brother rich, that nigga died 'fore I got home
Niggas from the sandbox turn into your rival (damn)
if by sea, from your lighthouse can you see me?
It's cool to be clever, but I'd take sincere any day
I'm writing you a letter, with the words I didn't
from down home.
This young man has never been north before.
I want you to listen to me, I got something to tell
You.
He heard about Chicago.
He
not so bad
Dear Slim, I wrote you
But you still ain't callin' i left my cell
My pager and my home phone at the bottom
I sent two letters back in autumn
to death
Once again I'm getting letters
From his goons for
Nothing but daring to try and draw breath
I feel my cool is slipping
Just tryna maintain my
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