Out Of Category - P.O.S

Cate-cate-categor, cate-categor, category

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of categor-cate, I’m out of categor-cate (Yeah)

I’m out of categor-cate, I’m cate-cate-category

He never liked classes, he was always a social cat

The cutest kittens forever where he at

The rudest men held positions at the flat, momma loved him

But momma want a man that help assist with this boy

This boy swing and a miss, bright-eyed beautiful lips

Pumped with lies, ma stumped and crying

But he don’t ever ask why, just kisses ma goodbye

Zips his jacket up and goodnight, skateboard or bike like «peace»

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

You know why?

Cause he dislikes the strife so avoids it

Don’t trust teachers cause they don’t trust him

Don’t trust motives so he don’t trust friends

He can’t tell if most other people cold or just don’t trust black skin

Displaced the race card, shuffled the spade

Ace into a place where cards stayed blank

But not to say without a face, more like a lack of color

Not really too certain how to go about a brother

It wasn’t always like that though

But momma moved him out the gutter to the curb so he wouldn’t wash away

He didn’t seem to get that though

And momma wasn’t really pulling in that butter so his bread came another way

Yeah and if he couldn’t have nice things, fuck 'em, he didn’t even want 'em

If he needed 'em, he found a way to got 'em

Since everybody doubt 'em, he happily obliged, bide his time

Find his little piece of peace at the bottom, like «Fuck y’all!»

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of categor-cate, I’m out of categor-cate

I’m out of categor-cate, I’m cate-cate-category

He built his self-esteem up off some tricks

Cause even when he matched as far as skin with kids, it seemed they didn’t mix

There seemed to be disdain from the kids that clashed colors with him

Rebel yelling girls tryn’a make they daddy pissed

So ain’t nobody on his buddy list

Cause they would probably give him business about the shitty sweater he lives in

So he surrounds himself with hope to touch a throne

And other people feeling all alone, hold your heart

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

When he found punk rock that first time

He rode either the nine or eleven bus line, it slips the mind

But that way they didn’t need to fit in

He asked if he could pull the bell and said «Ma, I wanna be like them»

Found his kin, brothers at school thinking tryn’a rewrite skin

Other are fools, never seen some shit like him

So far he’s been a bitter boy, living like litter

No choice, no quitter, so cue the noise

Ain’t nothing like a Mohawk to show off your fuck off

And kick off the Reeboks for boots to keep the block off you

He could see how the re-route of style made the eyebrows raise

Not for nothing wasn’t changing for you

He’d seen his daddy with a pipe, too young to understand

Life ain’t coming from this man holding hands with him

He probably didn’t mean to hit him

He probably didn’t even mean to plant his seed

Is his picture in his wallet with him?

He’s thinking probably not, and even so

It’s probably rolled up with some coke in it, old and out of focus

So nope, the road they chose was not his

Nobody will ever be like him, hold your heart

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of categor-cate, I’m out of categor-cate

I’m out of categor-cate, I’m cate-cate-category

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of category, I’m out of category

I’m out of categor-cate, I’m out of categor-cate

I’m out of categor-cate, I’m cate-cate-category