I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category He never liked cla**es, he was always a social cat The cutest kittens forever where he at The rudest men held positions at the flat Mama loved him, but mama wanna man to help a**ist with this boy This boy, swing and a miss Bright eyed beautiful lips plumped with lies Ma stumped and crying, but he don't ever ask why Just kisses ma goodbye, zips his jacket up and goodnight Skateboard or bike, like peace I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category You know why, 'cause he dislike the strife so avoids it Don't trust teachers, 'cause they don't trust him Don't trust motives, so he don't trust friends Can't tell if most other people cold or just don't trust black skin Displaced, the race card shuffled The spade ace into a place where cards stayed blank And not to say without a face, more like a lack of color Not really too certain how to go about a brother It wasn't always like that though But mama moved him out the gutter to the curb so he wouldn't wash away He didn't seem to get that though and mama wasn't really pullin' in that bu*ter So his bread came another way And he couldn't have nice things, f** 'em, he didn't even want 'em If he needed 'em, he found a way to got 'em Since everybody doubt him, he happily obliged to bide his time And find his little piece of peace at the bottom like, f** y'all I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category He build his self-esteem up off some tricks 'Cause even when he matched as far as skin with kids, it seemed they didn't mix And there seemed to be disdain from the kids that clashed colors with him Rebel yelling girls trying to make they daddy pissed So ain't nobody on his buddy list 'Cause they would probably give him business about the sh**ty sweater he lives in So he surrounds himself with hope to touch a throne And other people feeling all alone, hold your heart I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category He found punk rock the first time He rode either the nine or eleven bus line, it slips the mind But the way they didn't need to fit in He asked if he could pull the bell and said, "Mom, I wanna be like them." Found his kin, brothers at school thinking he trying to rewrite skin Other are fools never seem some sh** like him So far he's been a bitter boy Living like litter no choice, no quieter, so cue the noise Ain't nothing like a mohawk to show off your f** off And kick off the Reeboks for boots to keep the block off you He could see how the re-route of style made the eyebrows raise Not for nothing, wasn't changing you He'd seen his daddy with a pipe, too young to understand Life ain't coming from this man, holding hands with him He probably didn't meant to hit him He probably didn't even mean to plant his seed Is my picture in his wallet with him? He's thinking probably not And even if so, it's probably rolled up with some coke in it Old and out of focus so nope, the road they chose was not his Nobody will ever be like him, hold your heart I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category I'm out of category