Colors Injury Reserve

[Intro: Ritchie with a T]
All things ain't pink, bruh
The grass gets greener
All things ain't pink, bruh
The grass gets greener

[Hook: Ritchie with a T]
Yeah, Blu said we below the heavens, we ain't living in hell
But I've been blue since Sandra Bland was murdered in jail
And we know black and browns ain't living as well
All things ain't pink, bruh, the grass gets greener
Blu said we below the heavens, we ain't living in hell
But I've been blue since Sandra Bland was murdered in jail
And we know black and browns ain't living as well
All things ain't pink, bruh, the grass gets greener

[Verse 1: Ritchie with a T]
Sub-Zero, MK9 arenas
Always against the grain since Mister Nickatina
With a stern backhand like Venus or Serena
On the mic though, things ain't black and white though
See, when we were youngins, we wanted to be Michael
Jackson or Jordan; hooping or recording
All posted by the light pole
Not too bright though, Mom said be home before the lights dull
And they told me don't cuff the mic, so I cuffed it harder
Had my pants on sagged, jeans cuffed over the starters
Always against the grain, unless you cutting your hair, my nigga
That's how a nigga lose his ways
It's hard to look around see we ain't living in hell
And I've been blue since the last of season two of Chappelle
And my green grass is green and their green grass is brown
But their green grass is turf, so they don't know about how