Letra de Come Back Around - Boldy James & Real Bad Man

(Feat. ["Real Bad Man","dreamcastmoe"])

Sometimes you get up just to fall down

Only thing that matters, coming back 'round

Coming back 'round

Sometimes you get up just to fall down

Only thing that matters, coming back 'round

Coming back 'round

I'm from the ghetto where it's families with no healthcare

Fathers nowhere to be found, mamas on welfare

Cousin home from the clink, he ran it from the top bunk

Uncle love to smoke and drink, granny on the couch slumped

Needle hanging out her arm, shoot up at least twice a day

Kids damn near starving, cooking noodles in the microwave

Where people slave and don't never get a job promotion

Auntie working two jobs every day, but she be closet smoking

Where niggas sick and tired of being tired of hoping

Thought he copped some Percs, but they finessed him with some Ibuprofen

Where pregnant underage mothers, they considered MILFs

Where sisters run and get they brothers just to get 'em killed

Fiends at the store, you tell 'em, "No", I bet they still beg

Where they ain't shit but J's, custos, and pillheads

Where you gon' feel some pain you never truly heal from

Where you gotta take a paycut to be a real one

Sometimes you get up just to fall down (Ten does down)

Only thing that matters, coming back 'round (It's gon' be some up and downs)

Coming back 'round (So pick your face up off the ground)

Sometimes you get up just to fall down (Yeah, what else?)

Only thing that matters, coming back 'round (This shit ain’t as easy as it sound)

Coming back 'round (Come back around, come back around)

Whatever it is holding all of your fears, throw them

Whatever it is holding all of your fears, throw them

Whatever it is holding all of your fears, throw them

Whatever it is holding all of your fears, throw them

I'm from the ghetto where the tenants in the project

Never snitch, but love to gossip, most the children was adopted

Streets like a foster home, basement, no Honda Civic

Ten pints fresh out the pharm', I've been putting on a clinic

May the whores always be hoes and the rats forever sluts

Where that backdoor never close, but the latch forever shut

Where the police short-staffed, where the facts ain't matching up

Where your math ain't mathing up, where the grass ain't never cut

Where the trap don't never close, social seven twenty-four

Is it back to charging motherfuckers eleven for an O?

Hundred tacos in a bale, I'm a block away from hell

Where the good die young or they rot away in jail

Seen the hood high-strung in my hideaway from 12

Never go on dry runs when I'm tryna make a sale

In the Murder Mitten where all the gloves coming off

Thought I seen it all 'til I saw the plug running off, let's get it

Sometimes you get up just to fall down

Only thing that matters, coming back 'round

Coming back 'round

Sometimes you get up just to fall down

Only thing that matters, coming back 'round

Coming back 'round

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