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letra de dedication to peo '97 - bigg jus

to my moms, i never knew her, some reason she just gave me up
so child service had to come and they picked me up
and of course tried to place me for three years, finally a couple said ok
only a few years after that they split apart when he went his seperate way
rocking the foundation to the beginnings of our home
contemplating sending me back, a woman struggling to make it on her own
a school teacher, [?] her own family
til they came through the wall of her bronx apartment and robbed her i had a grandmother
from uptown boston road who loved the mets more than the yanks
i thought it was funny, but her cooking was for real so i always gave thanks
but she had a strained relationship with her only daughter
that began when i would later learn life was even harder
when it was segregation, poor education, and [?] black power
the years went on, we tried but it was like living night to night
and the atmosphere stayed tense, the smallest reason she’d drink, we’d fight
in the heat of the moment sarcastic she always blasted
“that’s why n-body ever wanted your -ss, you was abandoned”
and often smitty from 113 would take a gang of us camping
and we’d be swimming, playing ball and jumpin’ all over rocks and sh-t
he used to say “you need to leave the house, let her calm down, avoid an argument”
so the next time it happened i came back the following morning
and it would later turn into the same story all over again
every time she drank it was like “wherever you slept last night sleep there again”

12 going on 13, that’s when i got heavily into writing
which was 7 years into this renaissance so the movement had ignited
and i’d be following the stars, bombing the streets all night
then it turned into trying to eat and not get caught rackin’ [?] and in the evening times
i rode the f line from stillwell ave to hillside and 179th
one hour trip each way, do the round trips 4 times it’d be day
and i’d be rippin’ the insides and the outsides all night waiting trying to stay awake
to gain the greatest respect of all life to the elements til i run out of paint

i used to hate the holidays, it was always a weak attempt to patch things up
and usually by the second week of january things would erupt
and it happened on a school night, during a winter storm, without a doubt
by then it was no probably, yelled “yo, get the f-ck out”
eleven pm, six inches had fallen, ain’t n-body out
and as i walked through the block i could feel the people sleeping as i p-ssed they house
it’d be a three mile trek to the preferred writin’ grounds
trying to plunge into the depths [?] and go all out
but crime is up in the city for the new year, there’s mad cops on location
it was like that as i trekked through the snow to the next four stations
and i couldn’t jump a d-mn turnstile anywhere
a light jacket, no hat or hoodie or long johns, rocking spring gear
freezing, and it felt like in a matter of time i was about to drop
i changed direction and headed to brooklyn through the sutphin boulevard j stop
finally inside, soaked to the bone, crying, about to lose my mind
i should be that toy in the bedroom reading about a doctor of design
and why has there been so much bad luck in my life since the beginning?
and i’m not seeing like there’s any ending in sight
so i ask god for forgiveness, but i forfeit my life
and that night, the tunnel’s a altar room through looked like h-ll
then i dazed out for a second then i fell
and i looked up i saw a lune otcf top shelf in the stairwell
it had to be about three years old
i laughed because now i was fifteen, world spinning out of control
slumped over the benches waiting on the train to get out the stinging cold
i often would visualize:
whoever would pull off a giant letter, each car all whole cars, would be utmost supreme kinging it
and if i had it my way that’s exactly how i’d be bringing it
and maybe later on i’d warm up, rack some paint to achieve that goal
and at that very moment into the station rolls
a whole car one letter each car, p-e-o
and it was like the cries of the ghetto, angels, or god himself had spoke
and i could hear “sorry son, good idea but you’re a little too late
be careful what you wish for, you can’t die, turn around and want to innovate
the progression of these many styles takes some time
so keep focused and always stay positive soon you’ll learn to conquer the lines
so keep focused and stay positive soon you’ll learn to conquer the mind
so keep focused and stay positive soon you’ll learn to conquer the hard times”
and the train doors opened and i stepped inside
i used to memorize all the real writers and crews who had fame
and tonight i call off their succession in dedication to each one’s name

- bigg jus

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