It seems this pen I wield is no longer just a form of stress relief/

It is now the only thing that holds me from the streets/

The same street were if you not holding heat,

 Your burned up with the leaf/

Head’s up… I feel sick to the feet;  I’m not broke enough to be given education, yet I’m not rich enough to rip if from the teeth/

Of The beast consumed me and all those who stand as they say/

“You can pay 20 a year” cause my mom makes a dollar over 50k/

You expect me and she to pay every single penny that we… okay, she has made/

Though she still has loans that she ain’t paid/

Maybe I should sell groceries… or just the greens/

Cause “N” words like me aren’t made for degrees/

…not made to have dreams that we are close to achieving/

If my pants don’t sag and in not keef chief-in’ /

Or a chief keef fan I can’t make it/

Unless I’m from the suburbs or smoking some herbs I can’t be education/

Forget a major in philosophy/

 it so common and I bet most blacks who do it don’t even know the definition of “kinesiology “/

There philosophy is make it and the fake it/

I’d rather not make it if my only trick in the hole is Smoking Aces…