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

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