Barely got control of it, must've got a hold of it
Pull me to the ground and left a scar right on my nigga lips
I look in the closet when I think about the past life
Never good in my wallet, tryna see if I got my cash right
F*ck a flight, they ain't never wanted to treat my pack right
F*ck a job, they ain't never treat my mom and dad right
I hate the quiet suburbs, I hate those picket fences
I hate the separation, first thing they call me: Nigga
I fight, I got suspended
My teachers saw me hit him
So they ain't listen to me, and from that moment on
I would learn that I was different, I would grow to see the difference
Second guessing my decisions, black bodies come up missing
I feel like all my days are coming to rubble
I feel like all my days are coming to rubble
I would walk through the halls at my own pace
Every lunch, I would flow, having no place
All books in my bag till my bones ache
Wonder how the world would be if I ain't know face