Solomon Childs: Corner Store Candy

(Intro: Solomon Childs (unknown singer))
Turn the music stop (turn it up, turn it up, uh-huh, uh-huh)
It's like I can be, they probably thought I was... (uh-huh)
Really be here (uh-huh, it ain't never what it seems)
(It ain't never what it seems, it ain't never what seems)
Uh-huh, yeah, feel me, huh, come on (it ain't never...)

(Solomon Childs)
Let's start before the triple beams, and my platinum dreams
Gettin kicked off the Little League teams
Think I was thirteen, far from a thug
Never the violent type, back in the days
Never fit the criminal ways, never was raised to go sideways in the maze
It's Special Ed, get the Caesar ate, nappy afro wit acne
Slum bum, I'mma key, whatever happened to real brothers like Fred G (I don't know)
Baby Bliss, Bottom B. Rick and B.D. (That's right, that's right)
And mama said I be actin wrong, spittin game in the drug game
God paid to skeet bock, give me a nickname
The D.A. did it all wrong, went and laid up too long
Stop writin rhymes, startin writin songs
And I love all my crew, funny what money could make you say and do

(Chorus 2X: Solomon Childs (unknown singer))
(Taste like candy..) and platinum dreams
I think a man's life ain't always what it seems (corner story candy)
Runnin from wrong teams and crush ya dream
I think a man's life ain't always what it seems (candy)

(Solomon Childs)
Reminiscin', wishin the God, never driven the crown
That was some years later, keep the kids shined
Can't hide wit pride, dealin wit money
Now I'm bona-fied, Solomon Childs'll reign worldwide
Thinkin back what mama love can only afford
A '79 Ford, that's what copped diamonds and change
Rocked minks, pushed the black Accord, the God in Billboard
And I'm proud to be alive, mama in community meets, tears fall from my eyes
And when they ask why she cry
My baby's dream always were big from the size, of since 5
Police said he would never survive
but now my baby boy's on the front of the Vibe
Them old timers be in front of the store
Sayin that you write better when you hurt more
And that's real...

(Chorus 4X)

(Interlude during chorus: Solomon Childs)
J.R., what? Gonna live on, hah-hah
This is for the money, word we got it
Right now it's time to get those notes, yo

(Solomon Childs)
Went from backpacks to briefcases, mixtapes of Ron G.
Craig G., Red Alert, S&S, and Funkmaster Flex
Now the opposite sex is vexed from back in the days
Givin no respect, mama said "baby enjoy ya life, take care of ya kids and wife"
Style is Caribbean vacations, me and Sabrina sippin champagne playin PlayStation
Went from dust bones to rulers, jail cells to buildin wit the old schoolers
Liftin iceberg skirts and sippin wine coolers
I used to yell, through a jail cell, that the money would come well
Think forever rest well, young drop the jew-el
He said, "son, never you dwell, cuz the day you repel, your thoughts'll excel
And ya whole town'll wanna get down wit you personal"

(Outro: Solomon Childs (unknown singer))
All of them (uh-huh, uh-huh) every last one of them (uh-huh, uh-huh)
It's like yo son, all them chicks who be tryin to disrespect you (uh-huh, uh-huh)
(Taste like... candy) And look past you, all them dudes
Who be tryin to act like they really tryin to feel you (uh-huh, uh-huh)
They all gonna feel you one day, just keep doin ya thing
(Taste like... candy)