I cannot shake my suburb, no matter how hard I try.
I really think I must, without ever wondering why.
Even though I live in city now, we both know where I’ve been.
Born to green lawns and spanish maids and undercover sins.
I’ll always miss a grittiness, a fire that I’ll have to do without.
My words will never carry far, never have such clout.
I cannot be a thug or pimp, though I often wish I was.
I cannot speak slick lines of quip, whiteness just because.
Who knew a place that’s lined with lace could restrict and revile,
And have me wishin’ so feverishly to be born along the nile.
You see black is cool and white is wack, least that’s what’s in my mind,
It took me years to come to this, I’m surprised I found the time.
I’ll call myself whatever I like, versed in poem and in rap.
“Hip hop don’t belong to you,” fuck whoever told me that.
I’ll channel Maya whenever I feel, I promise I don’t give a damn.
Flip it like a white tupac or a black uncle sam.
This poet from the suburbs has seen a lot of shit,
One thing that I’ll tell you straight, I’ll never fuckin’ quit.
A place don’t define no man, and I’ll never fuckin’ quit.