I don’t like listening
At least not to you
The same ‘ok news, the same ‘ol
Breaking, boring news
It’s excruciating to bear
Pretending I care about celebrities
I couldn’t care less, whether they gained
But their lives are pushed on me as real
Images barraged upon souls as if they were gods
They are mortals, no greater or less than I
So why aren’t people mimicking my wardrobe
Or getting tattoos of my name?
I haven’t sold out yet? No mixtape?
No record breaking single about gold chains?
No leaked sex tapes? No album cover
Adorned with spread legs and whiskey bottles?
I don’t have a crew of white fuckboys
Posting daily cringe videos on YouTube
There’s a lot of things I’m not
And a conformist is one of them
Standing on the outside of your inside
Is a life goal of mine
And might be the only thing I’ve ever done
That I was proud of