EXP, my nigga, no book or disertation
I don't have a Ph.D in race relations
but I've got a hundred multicolored friendships
and I saw them turn grey, my niggas pensive
we don't speak up cause we can't control the anger
in 40 years I bet the carpel in our fingers
will not from typing words we wish we wrote in
what do you say when there's a backlog of retorts for every word spoken?
my grief gets compared across the ocean
some travel miles to be a token
penny for your thoughts and bleak devotion
pressure wash your mouth with soapy notions
instrumental albums on the way, mane
they don't know what I'm trying to say, mane
if I get this cash we can't hangman
jealously make em forget that I ever felt the same thing
but I got my real ones with me
imperfect like Chappelle said
but we were never meant to go to war
so if I can help it, I know it sounds selfish
but I'm just tryna play games with my dawgs
my brothers, my sisters, and my non-binary "tricksters"
if you ever touch em imma fuck you up
if you ever touch em imma fuck you up
my brothers, my sisters, and my non-binary "tricksters"
if you ever touch em imma fuck you up
if you ever touch em imma fuck you up
I fear there is no reboot
nothing's the same but the springtime hatred
and the cool snow fades
everything you see will soon be easily replaced
shores run higher on the coast
everything's better than before they boast
wanna own it all but disorder one cried
eyes turn blind no matter how high
vantage only for advantage till we try to see eye to eye