Will I see you?

Just talkin' about what I see

It's not opinion-based, it's just, just shit I see (Uh)

The suburbs are filled with ebonics and trap sonics

Frat boys sayin', "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 dads' pockets

White girls squattin', tryna get that ass poppin'

Caught back-talkin' to their mom and dads often

Recitin' rap lyrics 'bout murder and cash profit

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

Local homicide rates got 'em astonished

Readin' 'bout it on a laptop and 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 takin' Molly, then Percs, tramplin' on top of bodies in dirt

Condesendin' suburban kids growin' up to be rap journalists

Writin' 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 shoppin' for articles and garments, that feel like they came from a foreign environment

Secondhand Bape, Supreme, and Gallery Department

Anything to feel less harmless

Adderall dealers carryin' '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 (Let me hear that)