Will I see you?

Just talkin′ 'bout what I see

It′s not opinion based, it's just, just shit I see

The suburbs are filled with ebonics and trap sonics

Frat boys saying "no cap, put racks on it"

The dialect got a lil' splash of some black on it

Cap and gowns bought by the money in dad′s pockets

White girls squattin′, tryna get that ass poppin'

Caught back talking to their mom and dad′s often

Reciting rap lyrics about murder and cash profit

Get to feel like a thug but don't have to act on it

Local homicide rates got ′em astonished

Reading 'bout it on a laptop in pajamas

Microsoft Office to complete their assignments

Never seen the hood still can′t help but have comments

Never had a convo' with a kid from that climate

That really has trauma, that really got taught to survive by any means

Fuck bitches, stack commas

Common ground ain't that common

The festivals are filled with Larry Bird jerseys

College students in a hurry to jump to a four-count and say the "n word"

Business interns taking molly then percs

Trampling on top of bodies in dirt

Condescending suburban kids growing up to be rap journalists

Writing urban myths about who they think is the best urban kid

And who the worst is and who′s authentic

And what the real hip hop is, and who′s all in it

Thrift shopping for articles and garments that feel like they came from a foreign environment

Second hand Bape Supreme and Gallery Department

Anything to feel less harmless

Adderall dealers, carrying round guns just to make it feel realer

House with white pillars

No rough just diamonds

The education private, it's all by design and

Common ground ain′t that common