Coach of the Year

I got a chip on my shoulder the size of a boulder

They say the world is cold but I am much colder

I wake up in the morning with anger, not Folger’s

And I got a list of grievances stashed in the folder

Taking notes and taking names. Nothing was the same

Like Drake, I’ll tell them that later they can give me thanks

Now Take Care. I ain’t got time to chase you if I’m not running

Pop something like a hamstring and now I’m not coming

I’m not coming like a bus route that got cancelled

I’m not coming like those royalty checks to Mc Hammer

I’m not coming like that chick who had a “family emergency”

I’m not coming like 911 in the hood, no urgency.

And whenever I get the urge to see you fail, I check myself.

Because I’m trying to be a boss, the type that checks myself

They don’t think I can do that so I had to check, myself.

Because if I’m a boss, I handle payroll so that means, I check. Myself

Cash me out. People sound surprised they ain’t catch me out

Because y’all report on locations, I can’t let you catch me out

Basically this is a game of cat and mouse and the mice are out

And I’m trying to get the cheese while leaving those trap nights out

Shawty told me there’s good in the world, you just have to see it

I’m just showing I can spit back whatever I take in like I’m bulimic

Cousins used to smoke around me but I rose from the ashes like a Phoenix

I had to pick a role like I’m Steve Nash and we’re in Phoenix

I had to pick a role like I’m James Harden and we’re in Houston

I had to pick a role because it’s essential to getting the right movement

Like D’Antoni, if you keep shooters spread around me I’m deadly

Attack in seven seconds or less, we like to catch ‘em when they ain’t ready

And it seems that you don’t have the personnel to persevere

It’s ok if she’s a player, I’m the coach of the year!

It’s ok to be sitting on the bench if you’re diagramming plays

I do it to get a ring, you just die for the gram and praise.

This entry was posted in 20 somethings, creatvity, honesty, poems, poetry, self-help, venting and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s