Reminicin, Listenin to its not all about me
thinking back when i was young to what life use to be
remember a lady by the name of Terry
who would sit out front with a blunt, eyes teary
she told the craziest stories
each one played into our histories
but she cried for her doubts but also each failure
she had 3 kids but she's still not mature
her kids ran wild all through the streets
one was 4 another 6 another 9 running in bare feet
her oldest son use to be hella coo
but his mom neva taught him what to do
so he neva went to schooo or ate much
neva got her loving words or warm touch
she was distracted
from the disease she contracted
she was 19 when that occured
tears fell but her sorrows you neva heard
she was strong but broke
heard bout how her second child was choked
by his father so he lived slow
outside he was neva shown
life began to get to much to control
life's issues had taken its toll
i seen her driving off one day
each kid in the back looking innocent in a way
hust wondered if there was somethin i could of said
that day; life won, now her and her family are dead
neva went to see them rest
but i carry the burrden on my chest
maybe i could of said somethin to make it right
since i had that feeling that things weren't alright
but i was only 6...i didn't understand
that a life could be saved with a helping hand
could of told someone what was wrong
maybe they could of made her more strong
the vivid memory
as she drove away from me
she was smiling
but the thought neva occured to me
that she could drive to a building up north
and have the guts to step forth
a tape later showed she kissed her kids foreheads
stepped behind them and with 3 shots they were all dead
she made smiles on the face of them
then pointed the gun to her and made it end
i often wonder if she went to heaven or hell
me to be truthful i couldn't tell