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 You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs man 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 youngin', 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 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 niggas These younger thugs who try to choke and try to get niggas 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'n 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 Yeah