[Intro: Issa Gold]
"We just want people to think. Boom. That's it"
[Verse 1: Mr. White]
Used to be I had to rush the bus and miss breakfast
Now I can't give a fuck, skip class like records
Record myself, and hope to make some fucking cheddar
But life ain't easy, like breezy's, so I still get fucked o'er regardless
I'm on my moniker, monitor behavior, i'm reckless
But i'm so far gone, even I question my purpose
But I earned my charisma, and the verbs that I splurge with
My team on every other period while we neglect our learnage
Or was it just me, underachieve?
I doubted every area their pathway took me
Got stuck in my mind, genius to a wannabe
But i'm lucid, fuck with this rapping i could make it all a dream
So fuck if I gotta get messy
Bless me with rhymes, I gotta shine
No restrictions, walking, like the hallway, after science
I'm stunting, no phd
I'm growing, spite that slavery
No offense to Mr. B, but I can sing well enough
Without your fucking C, plus
I got a knowledge, working to maybe college
Only grade I got was "Great job Son" from Mom when I stopped trying
Exercised my mind then
Maybe i'll get a co-sign
Shit i got that Chem test
Chem strains seem more like my line
I'm not saying i'm a slacker
Potent rhymes is my grind
Say "asalaam alaikum" to the life of live or die
I guess it ain't a bad place to live
We are just a couple bad kids
[Hook: Mr. White]
Sitting in the hallway, alone like always
Bells go off regardless, the fact it's 5:40
Got my tummy rumbling gotta eat, no money
I hope in 5 years i'll be the same not bummy
In a rough spot I'm getting down, (Damn!)
Studied lyrics stead of my vocab, (Cram!)
Shit if I get killed tonight or not, (Blam!)
If I left a life not soon to be forgot (Augh!)
[Verse 2: Mr. White]
Went from protege to be the teacher
You students
Lost interest in picking and choosing textbooks now i'm prudent
In cruising my mind for rhyming shit to convey my message
With a little bit of ripping and killing for texture
Hope a fucker OD, i'm too big to measure, gotta love my humor
I gesture, a middle finger up
The most i got was tips in my cup, outta luck
Got drunk on the power, flipping it up
Mixing a drink and some drugs
Fucking the rough, get high on the love
Make magic and music combine with my tongue (Augh!)
Flung me 'round from home to home I got
No love for flaunty bros who show-who show, their fucking stock
I keep my poker face behind a loaded deck a cards
Never gave a damn bout no rule book
So I just-I just discard it like it was Schwag
If I graduate today or not, got so much in stock
No math final can foresee if i'll make mama proud or not
Lost my sensibility in "Four Loko" cans and the pot
But that's the past and this is not… am i right?
They like to call me a failure
I ain't impressing you fuckers
Call me degenerate, you kiss your fucking mouth to your mother?
Other fuckers get lucky, I get stronger and more lovers
My music was like a "Fun" song, no good covers
I'm an underachiever, but believer in second chances
Who'm i kidding i'm crazy to think rapping is in my rider damnit
Drop a couple troubles and just live
Maybe light another damn spliff
[Hook: Mr. White]
Sitting in the hallway, alone like always
Bells go off regardless, the fact it's 5:40
Got my tummy rumbling gotta eat, no money
I hope in 5 years i'll be the same not bummy
In a rough spot I'm getting down, (Damn!)
Studied lyrics stead of my vocab, (Cram!)
Shit if I get killed tonight or not, (Blam!)
If I left a life not soon to be forgot (Augh!)
