GLASSES MALONE - Flowers (Happy Father's Day) lyrics

rate me

(Intro)

I'd advise you to give me flowers

But they're still good smelling

Real shit!

(Verse)

Good Lord, look, where do I start?

Without you I wouldn't have a heart

You helped raise a child, you ain't even married yet

Think about it, you raised a couple, nigga, momma's day

All these kids, yet I felt like I'm your only one

All these boys, you make me feel like I'm your only son!

So shit, I love you pops, I'll say it loud!

And I'll do whateva just to make you proud

Always used to say, Charlie, this life ain't fair

Yo love for my father cuz my power was in there

We only talked once, but I didn't cry

Because my anger wouldn't let me feel for that stranger

The nigga ain't no father, why I call him that?

But you died, made me cry at the thought of that

Open wealth, look, you deserve all of that

Please ignore if the Lord tryna call you back

(Hook)

You all I got left! You all I got left. This cold heart world

You all I got left

(Verse 2)

So please don't leave, Renee, where do I start?

Without you I wouldn't have a heart

I know my momma made you cause of couple time

And I know you took it out on us a couple of times

Shit, a couple rub packs and now we made it through

And I finally got the right words to say to you

Shit, I love you, I love you with all my heart

When mom died cause of you I didn't fall apart

You always see the best when they see the worst

I'mma buy you that crib before I leave this earth

I got you this Christmas, _________(?)

And even thought you hide it, I can see the hurt

Just wanna say somethin' for the shit that he did

But only _____(?) sleep, that's what you taught the kid

And if it's real love then you never quit

Take care of yourself, I can neva see you sick

(Hook)

(Outro)

K, look, blood nigga, fuck face brother

And I'm only till that dirt leave my coffin doubts

Choppy that uncle Kiki talkin' bout

Choppy that uncle real libby love

And here's a couple hunnid, when she hit me up

Pressure of a pimp, must be hard as hell

And it's plain why our momma prolly went to jail

I know you feel guilty, nigga, let it go

Momma was a hustler, tryna get the dough

Street life, that's what she knew

And get that money's what the fuck she do

Shit, I pray to God that your soul find peace

Glad you quit the peels and stuck with that weed

Fast life in our blood, but you must reduce the speed

I can't lose you to these streets

(Hook)