Lyrics Saigon – My Mama Thinks I’m Crazy

Uh, how real is, this? (uh-huh)
How real is… this? (Saigon)
Do it, do it

Curbside Hustle (Saigon):

Uh, uh, uh
Truth or dare, who should care, Lucifer’s near, proof is there
Either your gun is a souvenir, or you use it, yeah
When you use it you face the music, prison you lose it there
How could you compare? Niggaz is 20 and they losin hair
Mama said «Brian, I hate to say this shit but I don’t be lyin
The way you livin I only picture you dyin»
And though I’m defiant, I know the reason why she droppin the science
Know why that’s what she implyin, I know why she cryin

Curbside Hustle (Saigon):
My mama thinks I’m crazy (damn, my mama think I’m crazy)
My mama thinks I’m craaaaazy

Two to the one, I get a gun, you get a gun, do it for fun
Mama not believin there’s reasons niggaz’ll shoot at her son
She know I sell smoke but don’t know that I’m movin a ton
Hard to find a job, yeah, at least not a lucrative one
One of your dude’s niggaz gettin money that’s much younger than you
You catch hustle fever, your temperature’s like 102
‘Stead of goin to see the doc, you goin to see ‘Pac
Pop was short for popular, gotta supply the B rock
She wrote me when I was in C block

Curbside Hustle (Saigon):

My mama checkin in my bedroom but I ain’t there
I left a note that said «Life ain’t fair» (life ain’t fair)
I came back and seen a note that said «I ain’t care
Yeah motherfucker, life ain’t fair, I let you live here»
The struggles of a single black woman raisin a man
That and poverty obviously go hand in hand
Damn! My mama think I’m crazy
The funny thing she been thinkin this since I was a baby
Well if I’m crazy then I’m prayin that father can save me
Cause my mama? My mama? MY MAMA?
Man, listen

Curbside Hustle (Saigon):
My mama thinks I’m crazy (my mama think I’m crazy)
But she don’t know a thiiiiiiing
(My damn mama thinks I’m crazy, uh, uh-huh)
(How real is, this?)

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My mama thinks I’m craaaaaaazyyyy