The teachers keep on sayin

There’s a red white and blue dream 

But the only red and blue we see

fight round that white man referee 

And somehow my producers

Their hearts just cant make a beat

And when I smile just know I’m lyin

Just like you’re lyin in the street

I light myself another hope

I stare and wonder what I know

There’s something wrong with how it goes

Theres no one waiting when I’m home

They’re 9 ta 5 or they are broke 

They pop their percs, at best they smoke

They carry guns with a full load

While I dream of suburban homes

A pair of shoes and a new phone 

instead of long nights I’m alone