Knock, knock.
Who was there?
A crack head mama.
Knocking for her 12 year old daughter at two in the morning.
With not one peace of shame on her face.
Just moves me to the side; to continue on.

Not even caring that she putting my heart in a dark place.
Look at the hand I was dealt,
I felt like my Joker could never kill her Ace.
Now that I’m grown, my mama still getting her high on.

It’s a shame for what she working toward these days;
just a quick fix, and nice lay on her back.
Hoping she get that old flame back.
While her best friend Cocaine didn’t cut her no slack.
Left her broke, and skinny as a match stick.
Still Cocaine was her favorite pick in the midnight hour,
to walk up and down the streets with.

As a child I would get embarrassed, and feel sick.
Realizing my daddy is dead,
and mama sucking a glass dick.

I’ve moved on my own since than.
My mama lost her home from the roaming of the streets.
Negativity is all she speak,
Because she now realize how she ‘s weak,
she can’t stopped because she scared of getting sick.
Letting a 20 second high ruin the last thirty years of her life.
Watching time pass her by.

Wishing she took a different route;
like a dice game before you crap out.
Now that Knock, Knock is at my front door.
But it’s no more walking past me.
I don’t want my kids to see what I saw.
So just STOP;
I don’t feel sorry for you no more.

And that guilt trip, “Don’t nobody Love me.”
You can take that back to that crack house.
Rest your self-pity there.
It’s no more crying cause Mommy’s not here.
You broke my heart for too many years.

I left it in his hands.
Now,
I have no fears.
I prayed for strength, and he pulled me near.
So mama when he Knock, Knock at your door while you in the street’s walking.
Make sure you answer it before your last calling.
KNOCK, KNOCK.