Rich Slave

Chain hanging low, look at the way it glistens!

You can see your face on the orifices of my gold!

Jesus piece round’ my neck, look at my diamond encrusted rollie.

How about this Lamborghini that I tread the highways in?

Watch how the doors slide up once I climb out the whip.

I dropped a few hundred grand on this car and the jewelry that I wear.

I’m feeling invincible, nobody can touch me.

I figure if I keep dropping big bucks on luxury items, then maybe—

Just maybe…

I can garner a bit of some acceptance.

Just maybe I could get my fans to welcome me with open arms.

Just maybe I could floss this deceptive image—

Tell my followers that I’m “living the life.”

When in all reality, I drown in a pool.

I swallow chlorine—

Consisting of deadly contempt that I harbor for myself.

Consisting of infectious wounds that never healed.

Having my loved ones—

Walk out on a nigga?

I would feel invisible to the world—

If I stripped myself of this falsity known as a “rich nigga.”

I would become a tragic artist trapped into his own painting—

with no way out of there.