- Votes:
- Composers:
- Smith
- Clervoix "sha Money Xl"
- Smith
- Cava
 
- Genres:
- Hip-Hop
 
- Tags:
- chill
- rap
- tyler adam
 
- See also:
Busta Rhymes - Been Through The Storm lyrics
Been through the storm, through the cold and rain
 Every thing's still the same
 Can't control how I feel
 Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame
 Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayne
 So many ways to make a dollar
 Huh, sometimes I think about my father
You see, my poppa was broke, and my momma was young
 Tryin' to blend in with them city folk
 Every day landlord knockin' down my do'
 Wonderin' where my next blessing is comin' from
My momma and poppa, moved to the U.S. as Jamaicans
 Struggled to get visas and green cards through immigration
 Though my pop was po', stayed away from crime and malice
 Hard living gave him hard hands and callous
As a young and peep how much they loved each other's space
 His hard hands rubbin, against the pretty skin of my mother's face
 Dig for treasure 'til his hands looked like hands of a junkie
 So coarse, slap a mule and take the life from a donkey
On the other hand, mommy was the type to work two jobs
 Never enough money, that's why I got your whole crew robbed
 Got older, developed ways of grippin' the steel
 Barely home for me to see her, or get a good cooked meal
Seek refuge in the alleged land of the free, lookin'
 Blendin' in with city folk, down in Flat bush Brooklyn
 Feel a little of my pain, follow and sing to it
 Homey, I seen it all, if you ain't knowin' I been through it
 In other words I
Been through the storm, through the cold and rain
 Every thing's still the same
 Can't control how I feel
 Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame
 Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayneBusta Rhymes - Been Through The Storm - http://motolyrics.com/busta-rhymes/been-through-the-storm-lyrics.html
 So many ways to make a dollar
 Huh, sometimes I think about my father
You see, my poppa was broke, and my momma was young
 Tryin' to blend in with them city folk
 Every day landlord knockin' down my do'
 Wonderin' where my next blessing is comin' from
Got a little older, late teens, me and my crew would huddle
 On the corner late nights, plottin' to escape struggle
 Nights got cold and still would hustle in the same place
 In front of Pancho Delis, now the freeze up on a nigga face
1987 Reaganomics ever curious
 To visit other cities, out of town kick was serious
 Guyanese jeans bounce, put whatever slinger on
 Whatever slinger came back, quickly brought me right along
Nigga ran away from home, doin' different wild shit
 Just to put a pair of Filas on, 'Didas on
 Wreck is all for the good, gettin' into shit
 Like we innocent, actin' older than should
Walk around broke in the hood, watchin all the rich niggaz
 These younger thugs who try to choke and try to get niggaz
 Thinkin' 'bout my mom and pop, while I'm monopolizin'
 To hell with just gettin' by and economizin'
It's kinda hard bein' humble in the belly of struggle
 Doin' things that probably get you in trouble
 That's why we stay up on the block, gettin' money
 While we keepin' it safe in front of churchgoers keepin' the faith
Mom and pop be worryin' for they son, despite they struggle
 And their honest livin', look and see just what I become
 A scavenger in brute pursuit to be happy, another young and
 That's wildin' across the line until somebody tryin' to cap me, oh shit
I been through the storm, through the cold and rain
 Everything's still the same, can't control how I feel
 Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
 Wooh, yeah, oh















