[Intro]

Yeah, yeah, ahem

[Verse 1]

Yeah, I woke up feeling black couldn't be better

Son woke up with that shine couldn't beat the weather

Son woke up feeling fly didn't need a feather

These the letters, me, a G forever, you get a e for effort

Don't lower case me, no don't play me that's a big G

Been moving 88 keys a week since I was 15

Sunday morning special, ebony, and ivories

You can find me with the bands while the choir sings

Frankly, it's understood, I ain't Frank Lucas, even less Underwood

I'm more Frank Kay, next to where Laurence stood

That's a hey, whole choir boy from the hood

Yeah I'm from the same soil as Gloria James' son

Gassin' my hood up, my oil need a change, uh, ain't nothing

3:30 ain't the time it's the code, 3:30 ain't a line it's my mode

I think I'm gettin' back to the old me

Without that Cali boy, really you don't know me

Had to get the rings so I left

Still home, got it inked on my left

Walkin' in like I'm the man of the year

Heard a lot of no, now I'm the man of the yeah

It's no problem that the Trinity can't answer back to

Big 3 over my head so please don't Chance The Rapper

I'm back bruh

[Verse 2]

I woke up feeling black, proud to be out here

The crew is stacked, ain't just me out here

Who is that? Homie Kareem out here

More than some tees out here

We screaming, "We out here"

Gotta find a way to monetize black twitter

So they gotta pay if they tryna laugh with us

Eyes on the prize, are we there yet? Nope

Eyes to the skies, what you staring at? Hope

I think I'm getting back to the old me

That "screw your man-tan, new age, minstrel show" me

Not bamboozled everything black God given

So when they tell me, "Fall back" Y'all tripping

The narratives ain't similar, they parallel

On heaven as it is on earth, the paracletes to parasail

Reformed is not a label I want you to tag me with

The reformation was for Catholics not Africans

I'm black, some days too much

Feeling strapped, tryna pay bills with two bucks

Feeling wack, watching other cats move up

Feeling trapped, like you shooting craps, you stuck

Believe me, feel like an all day job, it ain't easy

Being black is dumb hard

Somebody always saying that we pull the race card

Then America turned around and pulled the Trump card

On guard when the squad car pop guns off

If you comply, resist, or you run off

See your one crime is your skin, if your tone's dark

You're the lead role, getting killed on the film, with the phone's out

Whose the next victim getting screwed by the system

Would they dig you a grave, or would they make you a slave

Dirt cheap tombstone or 13th loophole just to make you behave

It's insane