Murs- Think You Know Me


[Chorus:]
You might think that you know me,
You know where I'm coming from,
You might think everything's all good,
But at the end of the day you're all wrong!

[Murs:]
All blue chuck taylors, blue dodger hat,
85 Regal, my daughter in the back.
I'm just a gangsta to most of y'all,
On the real we're just hanging on the way to the mall.
Week days I'm Rn down at kaiser Weekends at church, I'm a youth adviser.
Just because I'm doing good I can't forget my roots,
I can never feel right in a tie & suit.
501's a plain white "t" and I stay gettin' stopped by the LAPD.
That's just life growin' up in south central,
I been done move, but it's not that simple.
I gotta come back, my grandmomma there,
Sometimes it's drama, but I really don't care.
Here's my neighbourhood and I love it,
Showin' all the little homies you can rise above it!

[Chorus:]
You might think that you know me,
You know where I'm coming from,
You might think everything's all good,
But at the end of the day you're all wrong!

[Murs:]
All red chuck taylors and red dodger hat,
Posted up at market with a bottle and gat.
I'm just a gangsta, that's what they say,
But on the real homeboy I just had a bad day.
Ten interviews, no call backs,
PO askin' me where my job at.
I'm an ex-kind and almost juiceless,
I'm a felon, don't mean that I'm stupid.
Got cut op, tribers in the dope
Lost five years of my life as a result.
In the feds I prayed and I read
Anything to keep the system out of my head.
I read zin
You really don't know a damn thing about me.
I probably gotta hire IQ to you,
These jobs ain't hiring, what should I do...

[Chorus:]
You might think that you know me,
You know where I'm coming from,
You might think everything's all good,
But at the end of the day you're all wrong!

[Murs:]
Black dickies, black Cortez,
White wife beater, a fresh shaved head.
I'm just a gangsta, that's what you thinkin',
You see me in the crew, posted up by Lincoln.
You see my tattoos, figure why I bother,
Really I'm an artist and I got my own palla
Hard workin' father, wife and two daughters,
Strugglin', trying to keep our heads above water.
I'm a tax payer, I'm bilingual
I'm chicano, I'm not an illegal.
Tryin' to live your American dream,
But you keep judging me about how I wear my jeans.
They're 42s, they're starched and they greased
I gotta education, I got proper speech.
I'm from the streets, I'm not less of a man,
Just trying to get by and do the best that I can!

[Chorus:]
You might think that you know me,
You know where I'm coming from,
You might think everything's all good,
But at the end of the day you're all wrong!

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