All I see is afros and protests, it’s feelin’ like the 60’s,Red, white, & blue flags, it’s feelin like the 60’s,
And it ain’t no more Grant money (Ulysses), it ain’t no more 50’s,
Do I get rich or die trying?
Or take classes in the city?
And pull all-nighters?
Drinking all that coffee, just to get wired?
Or getting all them degrees, just to get higher? Or get hired?
30 thousand in debt, and you’re telling me I could still get fired??
‘Cuz good credit only good for you to owe it,
Nowadays everybody wanna show it,
I just wanna hold it,
Sip Moët, and be a poet,
Text from my girl, “Stop trippin’! You’ll be there before you know it. ‘Cuz can’t nobody fuck with you.”
That’s a declarative,
Never a comparison,
She tell me that the sex is better when I’m imperative,
I tell her that the sex is better when I pull her hair wit’ it, and try to stop her momma from hearin’ it,
She tell me that’s embarrassing,
I tell her cherish it,
She tell me perish it….
And I’ll never have to worry ’bout a next,
Try to calculate my steps,
To the point that my slang is grammatically correct,
Just read a sentence in my texts,
My mistakes is on purpose,
That’s why I flourish,
Plus my momma a virgin,
That means I’m purposed,
That means I’m perfect!