UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Chris loved to write songs. He'd sit alone for hours and write....

I was always so impressed, he told me they were his words, he even told Sheri that.

They argued about it even. Chris felt these words, he owned them as if he did write them.

After all 98% of it, IS OUR LIFE! He left some words, phrases out, left others in, even though they didn't apply.

For instance: he was never in jail, and I never had 2 kids.

I have a huge folder of songs Chris wrote (or didn't write), one day I'll have them all up here.

DEAR MOMA

 

When I was young me n my Moma had beef 17 years old kicked out on da streets, the back at tha time

I never though I see her face, aint oh woman alive that could take my mama's place, suspended from school,

scared ta go home, I was a foolin wit tha big boys breakin all the rules, I shed tears wit my baby girls, over

tha years we was bored enough as lil kids, and even know we had different Dadies, the same drama when

things went wrong we blamed Moma, I reminice on tha stress I caused. It was hell, hugin on my Moma

from tha jail cell, and who think in Elementery, Heyyyy I see the penetentery one day runnin from da police

dat's right, Moma catch me put a whoopin to my backside.

I finally understand it aint easy tryin ta raise ah man. You always was comited, a poor single mother on wellfair,

tell me how you did it. Theres no way I can pay ya back, bu tha plan is to show ya that I unerstand.

Now aint nobody tell us it was fair, no love for my dady cus tha coward wasent there, he passssed awway

and I didnt cry cuz my anger whouldent let me feel 4 a stranger, they say I'm wrong and heartless, but all along

I was lookin 4 ah father he was gone . . . . I hung with tha thugs, and even knew they sold drugs, they showed a

young brotha love, I moved out started petty bangin, I needed money of my own so I started slangin. I ain't guilty

uz even tho I sell rocks it feels good putin money in the mail box. I love payin rent when the rents due, I hope you

got that diamond necklace that I sent to ya. Cuz when I was low you where there for me and never left me alone

becuse you cared for me, and I could see you comin home after work late ya in the kitchen tryin to fix us a hot plate,

you just workin with the sraps we where givin, and Moma made miracles everey thanksgiving, but now the road

got ruff feel alone, tryin to raise 2 bad kids on your own, and theres no way I can pay ya back but my plan is to

show ya that I understand

Pour out som liqour and I reminice cuz through the drama I could always depend on my Moma, and when it seems

that I'm hopeless you say the words that get me back in focus when I was sick as a litle kid to keep me happy theres

no limit to the things you did, and all my child hood memoriess, are full of all the shit that we went through and even

tho I act crazy, I ota thank tha lord that ya made me there are no words that can express now I feel, you never kept a

secret alwayt kept it real, and I apreciate how a raisssed me and all the extra luv that a gave me

I wish I could take the pain away If you can make it through the night theres a brightre day, evereything all be allright if

ya hollld ooon! It's oh struggle evereyday we gota roll on thees no way I can pay ya back but my planis to show you that

I understand

TUPAC / CHRIS

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