Will I see you?
Just talkin´ ´bout what I see
It´s not opinion based, it´s just, just shit I see (Uh)

The suburbs are filled with ebonics and trap sonics
Frat boys sayin´, "No cap, put racks on it"
The dialect got a lil´ splash of some black on it
Cap and gowns bought by the money in dad´s pockets
White girls squattin´ tryna get that ass poppin´
Caught back-talkin´ to their mom and dads often
Recitin´ rap lyrics about murder and cash profit
Get to feel like a thug but don´t have to act on it
Local homicide rates got ´em astonished
Readin´ ´bout it on a laptop and pajamas
Microsoft Office to complete their assignments
Never seen the hood, still can´t help, but have comments
Never had a convo´ with a kid from that climate

That really has trauma, that really got taught to survive by any means
Fuck bitches, stack commas
Common ground, ain´t that common
The festivals are filled with Larry Bird jerseys
College students in a hurry to jump to a four-count and say the, "N" word
Business interns takin´ Molly, then Percs
Tramplin´ on top of bodies in dirt
Condesendin´ suburban kids growin´ up to be rap journalists
Writin´ urban myths about who they think is the best urban kid, and who the worst is
And who´s authentic
And what the real Hip-Hop is, and who´s all in it
Thrift shoppin´ for articles and garments that feel like they came from a foreign environment
Second-hand Bape, Supreme, and Gallery Department

Anything to feel less harmless
Adderall dealers carryin´ ´round guns just to make it feel realer
House with white pillars
No rough, just diamonds
The education private, it´s all by design
And, common ground, ain´t that common (Let me hear that)