BEN CARSON

Dressed in the same shit I wore yesterday Yeah, it's still fresh, never flexed clichés I never write a verse and repeat the same thing 'Cause the sheen on my chains is my calling to fame Made in the projects, slave to my progress I only fuck a black girl if she wearing contacts You ain't gotta talk you still blocked from my contacts She hit me on my MySpace she ever wanna find me I'm way too fly to drive, too drunk to call a cab But I still need a ride to fit a couple girls inside Oh what am I to do? I rent an Uber for the week It's just another whip on my back, and we don't pay no tax 'Cause where I come from, ain't no body getting shot by the IRS The trap ain't free, you better realize that But I'ma get money, no tests on the desk Fuck the SATs, smoking Sunday's best Find me in the ground, only time I regress Six feet down, no I'm not there yet Won't you meet me in the grave? I got grass on deck So a grave like a slaveship, candy colored spaceship Space like a white girl but ride like a Lexus Leather with an accent, designed by Italians But he ain't got medallions so maybe he a Mexican But really what's the difference? I don't know difference Mirror black and white like a pilgrim Plymouth landed on me like a kickflip Y'all repress this, oppress this Question next is why my mentions so menstrual? I be going ham on Ray Street eating tofu Loiter at the Whole Foods, sipping kombucha Yeah, I went green but the black'll still do ya Damn, she used to be my number one, past tense Past time chillin', evolved into the villain Sunday school friends in search of second circumcisions Nah, keep your opinions We was mall rats just cheesin' for the pictures Now who can circumvent us? --- BEN CARSON - BROCKHAMPTON