Junior High (Ft. Evidence, Your Old Droog) Ché Noir (Ft. Evidence & Your Old Droog)

[Ché Noir]
I always spit to tell you facts
In junior high I went to school with kids who sell you crack
Was ridiculed by my peers, they whisper pointing while they laugh
The 7th grade, I had a pistol pointed at my back
Back then I was a cursed teen with a bruised fist
My only best friend was 13 with two kids
The flower child my mothers worst seed that grew big
In Sunday school I watched my church sing with loose lips
Road rage on this road to riches to go to school
Cause sharpened pencils is how I show niggas my point of view
Never avoid the truth hungry for the success but inside of this bin is only the greed can enjoy the food
League of my own, I don’t compete with these cats
Cause you niggas trash, I rather hear your beats than your raps
Took a ego trip and my cloth, the only thing that I pack
Then I flew to a private island for a week to relax
For real

[Evidence]
Didn’t have to sell a dream
A junior high in school with kids that’s getting cream
Scrutinized for my moves, watching plotting on the team
Before a digital scale was rocking in the beam
I failed at first but found my balance sprinting last place
Marathon runners don’t come up at a fast pace
Found my talent, head up in the clouds hands
Faith is evidence, I’m truth to the foul plays
For the record, put the madness to the method
Digging in the crates found the fragments of the wreckage
I just loop it, hard to say I haven’t been invested
Going back in time before I hadn’t been arrested
In the public, if I rocked a chain I wouldn’t tuck it
Going back to Cali still rocking the bucket
Fuck the fuck shit, knock the cord out my [?]
Confrontation came up to change the subject