Prospect

Small town boy got big city dreams
He feels the chill of the night through his jeans
It bites his skin like the knife he carries
Shadows his face underneath his hoodie
Walks to a home that the government owns
Holes fill the walls where the photos should go
Last night's takeaways are still in the stove
He takes a seat at the table and goes over his notes

He's tryna make it while tryna hide
Two edges to his double life
School of thought to his left and heartless to his right
He's just tryna survive

Streetwise way beyond his years
Can launch his fists like he hand knew Shakespeare
Nobody knows and he doesn't care
All that matters are the colours he wears
Hungry for something that he can't eat
Calms his nerves with every word that he sees
Lights his cigarette, has a cup of tea
He takes a seat at the table and continues to read

He's tryna make it while tryna hide
Two edges to his double life
School of thought to his left and heartless to his right
He's just tryna survive

Rise and shine but nothing looks right
Books camouflaged by cans, jumps on his bike
Dad gave it as a gift last night
Wonder if he's changed for good this time
Shrugs and hopes for the best, got headphones on
Prepares for the test, mouthing words with a song

Robin Hood hero

Miss gave him props on a job well done
"An A, parents must be proud of you, son"
Smiled back with a nod, little does she know
Enrolled himself with no help from home
Hides the bike in the bushes
Scared that it might be hot so he doesn't wanna push it
Game face hard, raised hoodie full mask
Set sail through the yard, played just above the clouds

He's tryna make it while tryna hide
Two edges to his double life
School of thought to his left and heartless to his right
He's just tryna survive