Yellow Fellow. [FW]

But really I’m just mad and can’t stand that I can’t cope /
With the fact that this plaid cap is like the tall hat of the white pope /
And my race and my face make me to mathematics, predisposed /
Haphazardly reposed when me and Lady Lazarus smoke dro /
Not necessarily scaring Nina Simone into sharing some of her blow /
But addiction is scary and my diction is tearing into her soul /
Get it? I’m overcompensating /
I’m not timid I’m livid, I don’t live-in, I live it /
No debating or waiting I feel myself start hating /
My type, so I blast the stereo to type /
And get assaulted with stereotypes /
So I smash it and try to buy like five or nine pints /
And in silence try to write /
But my mind finds time to blind my insight /
And the bong I start to light /
And light, write, and light, and light /
Crossfaded at home, 7 down to one five /
I don’t live it, I live-in /
Proving stereotypes right in my urge to defy /
So I pass the fuck out muttering mumbles ’bout life /
The uttering stumbles as I tumble down stair flights /
Need some ego repair, my clarity’s not bright /
Preaching to my choir, the words is tired and trite /
“Bruh, you so ambidextrous its like your left is your right.”

I just wanna be someone you look forward to see /
Don’t wanna make you think /
I can’t pronounce “Darjeeling” or “feeling” /
Or do you say “fee-ring”? /
Well I got a fee to ring up with my knucks /
You fuckin fratboy motherfuck /
Take this sammy with extra uppercuts /
Use an apple crate to reach your mug /
My eyes is slatted and /
My hats is patterned and /
My height is fatter /
Than it is tall, but /
My mind is badder /
Than it is small and /
Like Ike I’m not white /
So I fight her limelight /
And beat bright limes /
Into brownish lemonade /
And if she don’t drink it /
Then a wig I will split /
Make a bitch fidget /
At the heavenly gates /
and impatiently wait /
For Hell’s vagrants’ escape /
Revelations is great /
The four horsemen will make /
Her pray yellow was her preferred color /
Instead of duller than the other brothers /
And damnation may seem like a helluva lot /
But this plantation stings like a helluva lot /
I’m trying to fly but my propellers is shot /
Stead of shootin me down she coulda gave me a shot

Expected to stack cheese like the bee’s knees is my knees /
A shitty driver even though I never get pulled by police /
Forever cursed to bask in an unrequited thirst.

“I put the flowers in bowls, know they’re coming in droves /
You’ll only miss when it goes /
When it goes.”



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