Wassup
Thanks to everyone for their mails, thanks for all the love.
In Loving Memory to my baby
I killed you with the realness now I'm breathin you life
Prestige is an illusion people tend to lose sight
I will always be Cory, first son of Glory
My brown eyes mirrors the pure ferocity
My Mind's a galaxy, you explored with curiousity
Slept with me, crept with me, yo love empowered me
I came from curses, cuffs, and suede Pumas
To painting slums as visually vivid as James Evans Jr.
I pull'd sum type o shit u thought I wouldn't
Dropped u like a homework excuse when u thought I couldn't
Shoulda known better, I'm born free, my love is like a gift
Hit u like a potent drug, kid gave u a lift
Yours forever though we dont gravitate
Hold on to memories of the nigger u love to hate
I'll always love you like yo name's Whitney
The joy and pain, like emotional souvenirs I carry with me
The quarter's not working I question my purpose in life
It must be to write,
Yunno me kid, I'm very determined
A child of the ghetto like a very young Sherman
Bred not moulded, the chosen upholding
unwritten laws of those behind walls closed in,
Quarter Centuries like Mandela,
picture me rollin
but don't look at me differently
on the strengh that I'm holdin
This is C, whether hood or burb, you never heard my chain got stolen
I pitch like Randy Johnson
You ever need work I'll assist like Magic Johnson
Yo nigga, shine forever born on the motherland,
never ran never will
My life is very real a tri-beam couldn't measure my skill
