Report Card Day

Verse 1

I try focus on myself rather than at others
Try reach a hundred souls than a platinum album
I fight the…frustrations of a young man
Fuck damn, what we gotta do to get us out the struggle?
I pride myself from within
‘Cause the stats say my dreams
Are impossible to free
So the world won’t hear my story that I really wanna tell?
It’s from the man’s eyes who’s locked up in a cell
It’s from a kid’s eyes whose mother won’t get well
I STRESS THE IMPORTANT OF MY WORDS
I STRESS THE IMPORTANT OF MY WORDS
Put me on the longest tree so that way I will be heard
Put me on the shoulders of giants I wanna see further than a regular would
Ain’t never waiting for a nigga that’s gon’ tell me I could
I been stepped on
And walked on
More than I should
“Boy change your walk and talk, acting you’re hood”
I tried to tell these niggas
I ain’t rapping for figures
They wanna shoot my dreams down
See we’re from a small town
Ironically big enough to home many strippers
Many killers, drug dealers
Sisters selling their bodies on every corner my eyes on
But who am I, who am I to tell them their lives wrong
I told them that wish to be a sort of conscious rapper
They told that that dream is torn like condom wrapper
Look myself in the mirror and homeboy don’t smile
Look myself from the inner and you’ll see I cry
And Lincoln told me to quit fighting the niggas of the industry
It’s sort of hard ‘cause they do it for publicity
Don’t get me wrong I love to see my black brothers shine
But ain’t prepared to help another black soul die
Real Hip Hop is beneath the surface, I’m deep
My haters and the fucking vultures lurking, I see
They say my values and my culture’s lacking since I rap
Fuck all that, fuck all that
Yeah I said it, fuck all that
Tired of people who think they know better
And if you look closely than you’ll notice they do no better…with their lives
Their small minds discuss people
Or do evil
Or whatever or whatever falls between them
Two bullets in his chest
Two bullets in his chest
And she wondering how is it they say she fucking blessed
When all these niggas don’t want nothing from her but her ass
While my mother prepped my food
I never made her happy but I wish this next report card would
And in the game
I feel pain like Terrell Taylor did
Think I’m different from these niggas like what Marshall is
Like when they showing off their bling up on that TV screen
Or when they fucking pistoling for no fucking reasoning
Instead of being in Princeton we just end up in prison
All praise to the most high
Yeah, all brains float to their most high
Wiz Khalifa playing low
A$AP Rocky playing low
Ask us why we’re weeding, watch our problem all escape and go
This our side our parents never ever get to fucking know
Shout out to my nigga Zoe
Yous a whore when getting no…whores when other niggas do
It ain’t our fault that’s what they taught…us when we was growing up
It’s in our system, in our blood
You get crippled, watch out Cuz
Bitch! And no I didn’t let hip hop die on October 22nd
Nor did I let it die on September 27th
But even if, if I did
She’d prolly hop on some wings and make her way to holy heaven