The Prologue by TruthCity Lyrics
The Prologue
(Verse 1)
Look, born with a gift and plan
My life I lived in advance
Wise beyond my years
I been a poet since the age of ten
Never had a father figure
Mom lived through the harsh conditions
Two jobs, an apartment, at times I wonder mama how you did it
No help from the man
Said never live with open hands
No A/C, spent my summers writing shirtless underneath the fan
Couldn't afford no Jordans, so it was Taylors I was sportin'
Tuck the laces, tube socks and tanks, in my room performin'
Stay up late, perfect my cadence
Syllables, rhyme placements
Metaphors, vocabulary, you know, all of the basics
And the makings of a true emcee
Struggle taught me patience and that patience brought you here to me
So much to tell in little time, so much hell inside my mind
So much pain inside my struggle, hard to write it all in rhymes
I'll need more than an album, need more than a career
To share this all with you, so much to say but I guess we can start from here
(Truth's Mom Speaks)
(Verse 2)
Raised to be modest, my silver spoon was plastic
Got good grades, born a writer, writing raps was just a habit
Seen my first gun at 16, 40 caliber, just me
And a white boy, but we'll just call em' Donny, rest in peace
You know, adolescent traumas, too young to deal with all the dramas
That come from living poor and being brought up in the projects
Was never the one for sports, I loved the mic, I'd get behind it
And come to life, at 18, in my heart, I knew I was the nicest
Then came the awards, my songs got me on TV
Thought I made it, graduated, started thinkin' shit be easy
Working part time, breaking boxes, seen grown men behind these registers
Niggas with degrees, not me, I wanted better
But these Taylors forming holes, fuck a job, I need some shows
Mama scratching up tuition, but in my mind I'm bout to blow
But I didn't, still inside my mama's home
Forced to make a decision, pack my bags, it's time to go
On a mission for the glory, knew no one would do it for me
Caught a bus to New York City, metro swippin', train boarding
60 dollars in my pocket, and just my homie to support me
3 niggas in one apartment, and so begins my story...
(Truth's Mom Speaks)
(Verse 1)
Look, born with a gift and plan
My life I lived in advance
Wise beyond my years
I been a poet since the age of ten
Never had a father figure
Mom lived through the harsh conditions
Two jobs, an apartment, at times I wonder mama how you did it
No help from the man
Said never live with open hands
No A/C, spent my summers writing shirtless underneath the fan
Couldn't afford no Jordans, so it was Taylors I was sportin'
Tuck the laces, tube socks and tanks, in my room performin'
Stay up late, perfect my cadence
Syllables, rhyme placements
Metaphors, vocabulary, you know, all of the basics
And the makings of a true emcee
Struggle taught me patience and that patience brought you here to me
So much to tell in little time, so much hell inside my mind
So much pain inside my struggle, hard to write it all in rhymes
I'll need more than an album, need more than a career
To share this all with you, so much to say but I guess we can start from here
(Truth's Mom Speaks)
(Verse 2)
Raised to be modest, my silver spoon was plastic
Got good grades, born a writer, writing raps was just a habit
Seen my first gun at 16, 40 caliber, just me
And a white boy, but we'll just call em' Donny, rest in peace
You know, adolescent traumas, too young to deal with all the dramas
That come from living poor and being brought up in the projects
Was never the one for sports, I loved the mic, I'd get behind it
And come to life, at 18, in my heart, I knew I was the nicest
Then came the awards, my songs got me on TV
Thought I made it, graduated, started thinkin' shit be easy
Working part time, breaking boxes, seen grown men behind these registers
Niggas with degrees, not me, I wanted better
But these Taylors forming holes, fuck a job, I need some shows
Mama scratching up tuition, but in my mind I'm bout to blow
But I didn't, still inside my mama's home
Forced to make a decision, pack my bags, it's time to go
On a mission for the glory, knew no one would do it for me
Caught a bus to New York City, metro swippin', train boarding
60 dollars in my pocket, and just my homie to support me
3 niggas in one apartment, and so begins my story...
(Truth's Mom Speaks)