Dressed like I’m walking depression,
Could give a fuck about impression.
Founded morals based off lessons,
So if attention is mentioned,
My mind may feel threatened.
Defended by demands.
Holding my own two hands.
Taking stands, hoping to advance.
Maybe there’s a chance,
That your commands will reach some fans.
But my true stance,
Hopes to further plans.
God damn!
Take a breather.
Working harder than that Visa.
Believing life pays off with Vicki’s Secret.
Models and cars pushed to full throttle,
Popped bottles and tags,
Fresh J’s and you’re on minimum wage?
You think you got “swag”?
Homie, take a seat.
Your frames about to be rearranged.
You sound caged by peers.
Plagued by self-conscious fears.
You’ve been taught that individuality,
Results in casualties year after year.
We need some progression, some creativity.
You need to move those feet,
And dance around defeat.
Force that fucker to agree.