Brown Man

Brown man in the mirror, running out of time slow

All this hate and the bitterness getting out of line, though

Brown man with the blues, they like wtf's this?

Live a day in my shoes, you'd be out of luck, bitch

They tell me luck has its limits, you gotta stay within

I say it's luck, when you have it, you gotta play with it

They tell me hate is the game now, the haters play with it

The brown man in your mirror can't get away with it

I tell em, I don't see haters, though, I see steak frites

I see people in trouble who I can straight teach