P.O.S Follow

Im out of category x8

He never liked classes/ he was always a social cat/
The cutest kittens forever where he at/
The rudest men held positions at the flat/
Momma loved him/ but momma wanna man to help assist with this boy/
This boy this swing and a miss/
Bright eyed beautiful lips plumped with lies/
Ma stumped and crying/ but he dont ever ask why/
Just kisses ma goodbye/ zips his jacket up and goodnight/
Skateboard or bike/ (like peace)/

Im out of category x4

(you know why)/
Cause he dislike the strife so avoids it/
Dont trust teachers/ cause they dont trust him/
Dont trust motives/ so he dont trust friends/
He cant tell if most other people cold/ or just dont trust black skin/
Displaced the race card shuffled/
The spade ace into a place/ where cards stayed blank/
And not to say without a face/ more like a lack of color/
Not really to certain how to go about a brother/
It wasnt always like that though/
But momma moved him out the gutter to the curb/ so he wouldnt wash away/
He didnt seem to get that though/ and momma wasnt really pullin in that butter
So his bread came another way/ and he couldnt have nice things/
Fuck em he didnt even want em/ if he needed em he found a way to got em/
Since everybody doubt em/ he happily obliged to bide his time/
And find his little piece of peace/ at the bottom/ like fuck yall

Im out of category x8

He build his self-esteem up off some tricks/

(And) there seemed to be disdain from the kids that clashed colors with him/
Rebel yelling girls trying to make they daddy pissed/
So aint nobody on his buddy list/
Cause they would probably give him business/ about the shitty sweater he lives in/
So he surrounds himself with hope to touch a throne/
And other people feeling all alone/
Hold your heart/

Im out of category x4

He found punk rock the first time that/
He rode either the nine or eleven bus line it slips the mind/
But they way they didnt need to fit in/
He asked if he could pull the bell and said/ mom I wanna be like them/
Found his kin/ brothers at school thinking he trying to/ rewrite skin/
Other are fools never seem some/ shit like him/
So far hes been a bitter boy/
Living like litter no choice no quieter so cue the noise/
Aint nothing like a/ Mohawk/ to show off/ your fuck off/
And kick off/ the Reeboks/ for boots/
To keep the block off you/
But he could/ see how/ the re-route/ of style/ made the eye brows raise, (but)/
Not for nothing wasnt changing you/
Hed seen his daddy with a pipe/ too young to understand/
Life aint coming from this man holding hands/ with him/
He probably didnt meant to hit him/ he probably didnt even mean to plant his seed/
Is my picture in his wallet with him?/ hes thinking probably not/
And even so its probably rolled up with some coke in it/
Old and out of focus so nope/ the road they chose was not his/
Nobody will ever be like him/ hold your heart

Im out of category x 12

Im out of category x8

He never liked classes/ he was always a social cat/