A Day Late, Sister

You might say my sense of style is bleak,
And my eyebrows ain’t nowhere close to on fleek,
But none of that shit makes me weak.
No matter what you think, or what you say.

Yeah, my house is shabby and my car is a wreck,
I got mad spider veins and a turkey neck,
My cracked iPhone 3 ain’t so high tech,
But I still manage to make it through the day.

My legs might be made of cottage cheese,
But I wear whatever I damn well please,
Because I am living a life of ease,
Where your judgment of me don’t mean jack shit.

I know that these words are ringing true,
And if you think that I am talking to you,
Then maybe you got some work to do,
So pick your own ass up and go on get to it.

‘Cause this silly-ass trash talking game,
Where you keep throwing shade and you toss around shame,
It don’t hurt the people that you name,
It just makes you look straight up shitty.

Why don’t you jump on that Women’s Day craze,
Where we lift each other up with light and praise,
And we help each other through ALL the days,
Even the ones that ain’t so pretty.

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One Response to A Day Late, Sister

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