I heard through the grape vine what you thought of me,
words the flow from your mouth in envious overtones,
continuos moans and groans,
complain she's insane
but notice. I maintain.
not in vane though,
its just my style, my way, the right way
I'm on the highway not speeding just cruising.
so really who's's loosing?
I'm walking a crooked line to my future,
going to college to make my mama proud.
I walk around on a crazy type vibe trying to do whats right and not what was
but each time I think I'm set trouble comes descending.
(I stay high) but I refuse,I refuse to spiritually die.
My teachers are not sure what to make of me
I sound smart but I'm so black,
now what can I say to that?
My peers on the other hand think they know me,
same questions asked no straight answers ever giving,
Yo I'm just happy to be living.
I inhale deeply cherishing every breath,
anxious to finish college,then whats left?
I'm not from this country so it's like I'm not from this world.
Since Haiti's sun bathed my back from birth, then I must know voodoo.
I take a step back,
This shit is too great,
a stereotypical world for this partially stereotypical girl.
The only black magic I tell em' I know how to use is the one between my
legs, with that I'll always get by.
Of course I'll still be high
I often click my heels like Dorothy
in hopes that I'll find my way home,
I did find it once but when I got there I was all alone.
Shall I go on?
I go to job interviews wearing my style, same smile.
always judged by a starch white widow who ain't had none in a decade.
of course it's not expected
still spoke my mind, my intellect ignited.
(tight lipped beady eyed bitch, she wouldn't know intelligence if it bit her
in the ass).
Her boss was even worse,
middle age, new money, wanna be John Gotti,
came off raw trying to scope out my body.
Saw my young pretty face,
was amazed by my wholesome race,
Didn't even test my mind.
I kept my anger inside.
But I couldn't,
actually I wouldn't swallow my pride
I just calmly bid that bald muthafucka good bye.
I don't need that shit in my life man,
I'm tired, just tired of living trife.
I stare at my physical form constantly and I notice that you do too.
you want to use me, you want to use me so bad you can taste it,
I'd love to boo, but you know I can't waste it.
I'd be making a deal with the devil that I am not ready to uphold.
Like a slave I am unwilling to be sold,
Your dick is not my fortune, your heart is not my gold.
The Polo on my back,
The Guess on my wrist,
The CK on my panties
None of it really matters
cause my pockets aren't getting any fatter.
My world can only please myself
and those around me that I choose to please
Brief glimpses of whatever?
It was only a tease...