Thug

“It’s Rooster season in dis hoe!” [DJ scratch, too dramatic for no reason]

Damn I’m thug… [pause like he’s waiting for applause that doesn’t come]

I’m so thug, I keep the Glock, and I stay with all the money moves [808 hits, slightly off timing like he’s trying too hard]

money moves… [pause] dancing. I’m hard as fuck. gangster. [awkward space like he forgot what comes next]

I sag so good too. pants. [beat dips like it’s confused]

I fight good. fists. fists. fists. fists. fists. fists. [808 keeps going while he overcommits]

Damn I’m thug. hood. [said too softly like he’s not sure he said it right]

All my bitches say I fuck good. sex. sex. sex. sex. sex. sex. [beat slows like it’s judging him]

Did I mention I’m thug? [last line said like a question, not a statement]

Walk in the spot like I seen it in a movie [beat: basic trap drums, slightly stiff bounce]

Nobody greets me but I still act moody

I nod my head like I’m part of a system

Tryna look dangerous but I overthink rhythm

Chain too loud but it’s probably fake

Still I act like it’s a federal case

I say “what’s up?” then I wait too long

Like I’m waiting for a crowd sing-along

I saw a dude lean in a music video once

Now I just lean for like no real reason

Security look at me like “who let him in?”

I whisper “I’m thug” then I grin

I’m so thug, I keep the Glock, and I stay with all the money moves [beat slightly off-kilter like it’s unsure]

money moves… dancing. I’m hard as fuck. gangster.

I sag so good too. pants. pants. pants. [he keeps repeating it like he thinks it adds credibility]

I fight good. fists. fists. fists. fists. fists. fists.

Damn I’m thug. hood. hood. hood. hood. [voice cracks slightly]

All my bitches say I fuck good. sex. sex. sex. sex. sex. sex.

Did I mention I’m thug? [too proud of himself for remembering the line]

I walk like I got a past I don’t have

Like I survived something I just watched on Netflix

Hands in pockets like I’m calculating crime

But I’m just checking my phone every five minutes

I say “on gang” but I don’t know gang rules

I just repeat stuff from rap school

Saw a dude yell once so I tried that too

But my voice cracked halfway through

I try to look cold but I just look lost

Like a man who borrowed confidence at a cost

Every step I take feel pre-recorded

Like I’m buffering in a life I imported

“It’s Rooster season in dis hoe!” [too loud, wrong timing, awkward silence after]

Did… did I say it right?

Damn I’m thug… [uncertain]

I think I’m thug… [even more uncertain]

I’m so thug, I keep the Glock, and I stay with all the money moves [beat barely holding together now]

money moves… dancing. I’m hard as fuck. gangster.

I sag so good too. pants. pants. pants. pants. [he’s committed but still wrong]

I fight good. fists. fists. fists. fists. fists. fists.

Damn I’m thug. hood. hood. hood. hood. hood. [like he’s trying to convince himself]