I strut around with my pants beneath my ass and ride with my music on full blast.
I must be a threat.
To society, I wouldn’t last.
25 years –My limit.
It doesn’t matter if God didn’t give it.
What I look like isn’t what I am like.
You judge me unwillingly knowing my capabilities.
I am not a product of my environment.
I choose to look the way that I do because the priceless stares from you inspire it.
Not knowing that inside I am powerful beyond measure.
Filled with benevolence.
My appearance does not speak for my intelligence.
I choose to be a stereotype because it confirms that stereotypes still exist.
The way people look at one another and still believe “that” & “this”
Base a whole race off me, because I represent everybody
what a close-minded thing.