[Chorus: Stevie Wonder]   Been through the storm, through the cold and rain   Everything's still the same   Can't control how I feel   Sometimes it's hard to keep it real   You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame   Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayne   So many ways to make a dollar   Huh, sometimes I think about my father   You see my poppa was broke, and my momma was young   Tryin to blend in with them city folk   Every day landlord knockin down my do'   Wonderin where my next blessing is comin from      [Busta Rhymes]   My momma and poppa, moved to the U.S. as Jamaicans   Struggled to get visas and green cards through immigration   Though my pop was po', stayed away from crime and malice   Hard living gave him hard hands and callous   As a young'n, peep how much they loved each other's space   His hard hands rubbin against the pretty skin of my mother's face   Dig for treasure 'til his hands looked like hands of a junkie   So coarse, slap a mule and take the life from a donkey   On the other hand, mommy was the type to work two jobs   Never enough money, that's why I got your whole crew robbed   Got older, developed ways of grippin the steel   Barely home for me to see her, or get a good cooked meal   Seek refuge in the alleged land of the free, lookin   Blendin in with city folk, down in Flatbush Brooklyn   Feel a little of my pain, follow and sing to it   Homey I seen it all, if you ain't knowin I been through it   In other words I      [Chorus]      [Busta Rhymes]   Got a little older, late teens, me and my crew would huddle   On the corner late nights, plottin to escape struggle   Nights got cold and still would hustle in the same place   In front of Pancho Delis, now the freeze up on a nigga face   1987 Reaganomics ever curious   to visit other cities, out of town kick was serious   Guayanese jeans bounce, put whatever slinger on   Whatever slinger came back, quickly brought me right along   Nigga ran away from home   Doin different wild shit, just to put a pair of Filas on, 'Didas on   Wreck is all for the good, gettin into shit   Like we innocent, actin older than should   Walk around broke in the hood, watchin all the rich niggaz   These younger thugs who try to choke and try to get niggaz   Thinkin 'bout my mom and pop, while I'm monopolizin   To hell with just gettin by and economizin   It's kinda hard bein humble in the belly of struggle   Doin things that probably get you in trouble   That's why we stay up on the block, gettin money while we keepin it safe   In front of churchgoers keepin the faith   Mom and pop be worryin for they son   Despite they struggle and their honest livin look and see just what I become   A scavenger, in brute pursuit to be happy, another young'n that's wildin   Across the line until somebody tryin to cap me - ohhhh shit [gunfire]      [Outro: Stevie Wonder - singer slower with more ad libs]   I been through the storm   Through the cold and rain   Everything's still the same   Can't control how I feel   Sometimes it's hard to keep it real   Woooooooooooooo-whoahhhhhhhhhhhhh   Yeahhhhhhhhhhh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh