Milk and Eggs

I watched as my parents dreams got foreclosed
Thought of my appearance can we afford clothes
Crazy to be a teen more ashamed to be seen in your jeans/genes
Than to think they were auctioning your home
And thats why they call it a ward-robe
And that’s why our wallets are all closed
When we think of all those orphans no water and no home
Ain't even got a quarter for chalk to draw those
And thee award goes to… yo, I’m happy for you I’ma let you finish
I got a problem with no Taylor/tailor can you help me fit in
300$ dollars for a pair just take a selfie in ‘em
Few thousand followers to share in our unhealthy visions
Look around can you compare to our wealth and privilege
Conscious rap it’s a conscious rap
Conscious rap it’s a conscious rap
Pious and pompous high on it’s horses
Find me some causes and I’ll rhyme about that
Right and wrong can’t iron them flat
Writing a song can’t fire a MAC
Got one eye on the sparrow plus an eye on the bat
Gotta find a third eye for the track
Picture me winning a Grammy providing for my family
And then apologizing cus I ain't black
Well nah I ain't Mack though I get L’s more with less sales
Rewind it back the mora “L” is get sales
Style the track for the majority who buy it like crack
For a songs the only sure way to fire a Mack
Alright maybe that was out of order
Good cus I’m out of quarters
And awards are just a game you play with credit
So today I pay with credit
Cus my baby’s needing feeding and we out of formula
You know how babies need formulas
Weed, hoes, and some alcoholic buzz
Or deep flows on how those are wrong for us
It’s a need for those who long to trust
Anyone who keeps them from knowing that there all in us
These vices vices meaces mices
We all wanna piece till we mice in vice grips
We all want peace but we fight for rights
Is it black or white when justice calls
To judge us all she adjusts her balls
This hermaphrodite to her bust we crawl
But she tips the scale when the love is gone
When the love is gone the love is gone
Till you find it above below beyond
Till you find it above below beyond
Ok so science dropped that atom bomb
Religion dropped that Adam bomb
You see what happens when reliant on an atoms bond
Find it above below beyond
Find it above below beyond
I was 8 up in that Section 8 and I should mention
Never felt ashamed putting change in that collection plate
Dad would hate when it clanged and that attention
Made it so he refrained from praying in any frame
That was built with the intention to guilt and place blame
To sit still and not face change
I’m saying if this will is free how can we make change
To pay a bill made out in our name
What a shame what a shame what a shame what a shame
All messed up and got no one to blame
All dressed up and got nowhere to claim
I say a human is a human ain't a human the king
Now who can blame me for my reasons reasons
I get so angry I’m seething seething
Funny they wanna hang me for things I believe in
When it’s the only thing restraining me from kicking their teeth in
They say my music is too shameless must be the text
It’s drive its too aimless plus when you text and drive it’s too dangerous
Must we conceptualize my toons/tunes till its lines are too Danish
And we argue till we all blue in our faces
Till we all the same hue and we viewed as race-less
I said race-less not racists face it
I wanted to be Black Thought but I gotta white face
Tell me can you have black thoughts with a white face
I was brought up on this music taught by its influence
So much I never thought it wasn’t my place
You wanna know my race
Well its against time running rhymes with the hopes that you might chase
I had high hopes in 9th grade see I was reading Malcolm
Till some irate white faced know it alls came pounding
On my thesis with a how come
Sorta cracked my glass bubble like they did with brass knuckles
And I lost two teeth in the outcome
But I was a subject of public housing
Growing up on Public Enemy albums
And I never feared a black planet damn it
All my heroes were black
But it appears all my heroes could rap
Man it’s a mind twist trying to define this
Obsession with the eyes to blind its owner
That’s why I rhyme with I’s cus I’m a loaner
But when it comes to the eyes guess I’m a donor
I got a blue eyed momma a brown skinned pops
Got blue on my collar turning brown when it’s hot
And it’s hot and it’s felt on the days
My credit cards denied for these milk and eggs