Jack Harlow - Common Ground lyrics
Jackman Thomas Harlow
[Jack Harlow - Common Ground lyrics]
Will I see you?
Just talkin' about what I see
It's not opinion based, it's just
Just shit I see (Uh)
The suburbs are filled with
Ebonics and trap sonics
Frat boys sayin', "No cap, put racks on it"
The dialect got a lil' splash
Of some black on it
Cap and gowns bought by the
Money in dad's pockets
White girls squattin' tryna get
That ass poppin'
Caught back talkin' to their
Mom and dads often
Recitin' rap lyrics 'bout murder
And cash profit get to feel like a thug but
Don't have to act on it
Local homicide rates got 'em astonished
Readin' 'bout it on a laptop and pajamas
Microsoft Office to complete
Their assignments never seen the hood
Still can't help but have comments
Never had a convo with a
Kid from that climate
That really has trauma
That really got taught to
Survive by any means
Fuck bitches, stack commas
Common ground ain't that common
The festivals are filled with
Larry Bird jerseys
College students in a hurry to jump to
A four-count and say the "N" word
Business interns takin' Molly then Percs
Tramplin' on top of bodies in dirt
Condescendin' suburban kids growin' up
To be rap journalists
Writin' urban myths about who they think
Is the best urban kid
And who the worst is and who's authentic
And what the real Hip-Hop is
And who's all in it
Thrift shoppin' for articles and garments
That feel like they came
From a foreign environment
Secondhand Bape, Supreme, and Gallery Dept
Anything to feel less harmless
Adderall dealers carryin' 'round guns just
To make it feel realer
House with white pillars
No rough, just diamonds
The education private, it's all by design and
Common ground ain't that common
(Let me hear that)
Just talkin' about what I see
It's not opinion based, it's just
Just shit I see (Uh)
The suburbs are filled with
Ebonics and trap sonics
Frat boys sayin', "No cap, put racks on it"
The dialect got a lil' splash
Of some black on it
Cap and gowns bought by the
Money in dad's pockets
White girls squattin' tryna get
That ass poppin'
Caught back talkin' to their
Mom and dads often
Recitin' rap lyrics 'bout murder
And cash profit get to feel like a thug but
Don't have to act on it
Local homicide rates got 'em astonished
Readin' 'bout it on a laptop and pajamas
Microsoft Office to complete
Their assignments never seen the hood
Still can't help but have comments
Never had a convo with a
Kid from that climate
That really has trauma
That really got taught to
Survive by any means
Fuck bitches, stack commas
Common ground ain't that common
The festivals are filled with
Larry Bird jerseys
College students in a hurry to jump to
A four-count and say the "N" word
Business interns takin' Molly then Percs
Tramplin' on top of bodies in dirt
Condescendin' suburban kids growin' up
To be rap journalists
Writin' urban myths about who they think
Is the best urban kid
And who the worst is and who's authentic
And what the real Hip-Hop is
And who's all in it
Thrift shoppin' for articles and garments
That feel like they came
From a foreign environment
Secondhand Bape, Supreme, and Gallery Dept
Anything to feel less harmless
Adderall dealers carryin' 'round guns just
To make it feel realer
House with white pillars
No rough, just diamonds
The education private, it's all by design and
Common ground ain't that common
(Let me hear that)