Think You Know Me

[Chorus]
You might think that you know me
You know where I'm coming from
You might think everything's all good
but at the end of the day you're all wrong

[Murs]
All blue chuck taylors, blue Dodger hat
85 Regal, my daughter in the back
I'm just a gangsta to most of y'all
On the real we're just hanging on the way to the mall
Weekdays I'm an RN down at Kaiser
Weekends at church I'm a youth adviser
Just because I'm doing good I can't forget my roots
I can never feel right in a tie and suit
Five oh ones (?) in a plain white tee
I stay gettin' stopped by the LAPD
That's just life growin' up in south central
I been done move, but it's not that simple
I gotta come back, my grandmomma there
Sometimes it's drama, but I really don't care
It's my neighborhood and I love it
Showin' all the little homies you can rise above it

[Chorus x2]
You might think that you know me
You know where I'm coming from
You might think everything's all good
but at the end of the day you're all wrong

[Murs]
All red chuck taylors, red Dodger hat
Posted up at market with a bottle of yak
I'm just a gangsta, that's what they say
But on the real homeboy I just had a bad day
Ten interviews, no call backs
PO askin' me where my job at
I'm an ex-con that's almost useless
I'm a felon, don't mean that I'm stupid
Got caught up, tried as an adult
Lost five years of my life as a result (real talk)
In the feds I prayed and I read
Anything to keep the system up out my head
I read Zen, Young, Bukowski
You really don't know a damn thing about me
I probably gotta higher IQ than you
These jobs ain't hiring, what should I do...

[Chorus x2]
You might think that you know me
You know where I'm coming from
You might think everything's all good
but at the end of the day you're all wrong

[Murs]
All black dickies, black Cortez,
White wife beater, a fresh shaved head
I'm just a gangsta, that's what you thinkin'
You see me in the crew, posted up by Lincoln
You see my tattoos, you figure why bother?
Really I'm an artist and I got my own parlor
Hard workin' father, wife and two daughters
Strugglin', trying to keep our heads above water
I'm a tax payer, I'm bilingual
I'm chicano, I'm not an illegal (I was born here)
Tryin' to live your American dream
But you keep judging me about how I wear my jeans.
They're 42s, they starched and they creased
I got a education, I got proper speech
I'm from the streets, I'm not less of a man
Just trying to get by and do the best that I can

[Chorus x2]
You might think that you know me
You know where I'm coming from
You might think everything's all good
but at the end of the day you're all wrong



Credits
Writer(s): Nicholas Carter, Frederick C. Gorman, Henry Dixon, Crathman Plato Spencer, Dominick J. Lamb, Vernon L. Ricks Jr., William H. Gaines
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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