THE COFFEE SHOP
It's early morning and I'm yawning with my coffee and cream, Sitting in the corner of the shop trying to work on a few things, But the observer in me starts to observe what he sees, Taking notes of the sights and all the troubling things. There is a man, bags in hand, having trouble to speak, To be honest and not modest he probably aint washed in a week. He takes some pills from his bag and he pops a few , He starting to nod off but he fights it he must refuse, Cause he done seen the news, and knows how that plays out, Being black in a coffee shop can get yo ass laid out. What shame, whoa who's this dame, she out here dressed to kill, I love a corporate sister killing it in a skirt and heels, I wanna flirt for real, but I respect her skills, Being black in corporate america, the double tax is real. As she blow slowly the steam from her latte, I can't help but imagine but every inch of her body. Here come the hipsters, there go the rock...