It's 2:00 PM and I'm Still in Bed

I’m thinking of my mom and what she thinks of me.

Am I some fly-ass negro, or is she ashamed of me?

It’s funny it’s the first time I’ve thought of this before.

But I’ll think of it and probably won’t think of it anymore.

And I’m tired of the future. How long will it last?

How long will it be till it’s my distant past?

Will I think of these times and say, “I should’ve done better?”

But I know me and I’ve never really been a regretter.

I hope I remember the life that I’ve led...

The strange and pretty people I’ve had sleep in my bed.

I hope I remember the fun it was.

Realizing it was winter running away from the sun.

The rebellious n**** with her rebellious ways.

Never giving a thought to these passing days.

And I wonder if my mom could live this crazy life,

Would she end up like I will, or would she do it right?

That’s a crazy thought too... my mom in my shoes.

She’d probably cut a record about singing the blues.

But I’ve repaired a few holes and applied some bandages.

Painting each new picture on different canvasses,

Instead of putting it all together looking ugly and weird.

See this is the shit I think about when I’m plucking my beard.

And when people call me crazy, I really don’t care.

I’m just taken aback like, “You weren’t aware?”

Just some of the shit that goes through my head

When it’s 2:00 PM and I’m still in bed.