Woman.

Bitch.

How dare she thinks she's all that?
She got more issues than a magazine.
You know here daddy left her, right?
She thinks she perfect.
She know damn well she shouldn't have worn that.

She think she better than us,
What with her done up hair,
Brown, glowing skin.
She think she better than us.

She think she better than us.
She got her head in all them books,
Knowing she gone end up takin care of some nappy headed kids and a low down nigga.
She might as well fail out school,
She ain't gone be shit no ways.
Say she wanna be a designer.
She better design her way out the hood.
Somebody need to let her know,
Black hoes from the hood ain't making it to college.

She wanna be white,
Writing all that damn poetry.
Like she Maya Angelou.
Bitch, ain't no damn Maya Angelou.
She wanna be white,
Actually doing her school work and sitting with them good kids at school.
She black.

She know good and well,
Her mother a hood rat,
Her father a thug,
And her sister a hoe.
She ain't gone be shit like the rest of us.
We don't make it out the ghetto unless we spitting on the mic, dribbling a ball, or acting a damn fool.
She ain't no better than the rest of us.

She think she so smart.
Playing with these little boys,
Not giving them the time of day.
Like she can do any better.
She say she want her a smart man,
A educated man.
She better mean Street Educated,
Cause ain't no nigga educated round here.

She thinks she cute.
Walking round here without a care in the world,
Her family don't even like her ass.
Say, she got a attitude out this world.
High maintenance.
High standards.
She looking for a damn needle in a haystack.
She thinks she's better than us?

She ain't nothing but a Bitch.

A bunch of things I've heard in my life, more so recently.