Oh, oh, ay

Tell me why you don't love me
Why you always misjudge me?
Why you always put so many things above me?
Why you lead me to believe that I'm ugly?
Why you never trust me?
Why you treat me like I don't matter?
Why you always kicking my ladder?
Why you never hearing my side to the story?
Never look me in my eyes, say sorry?

Why you can't recognize my stride
Always gotta minimize my pride
Always gonna criticize my moods
I can't make one mistake, it's no room
Feeling like I gotta leave real soon
I'mma say "namaste," and just bloom
But for now, let you runaway from the truths
Since you can do anything you want to, anyway
Know some things I ain't supposed to though
It's way deeper than just being emotional
Some things you just couldn't keep on the low
Now I'm freed by the truth, I can't be controlled, no more
Nothing like I used to be back before
No, it must hurt for you to see me evolve
Why you gotta kick me down on all fours?
Why you can't stand to see me stand tall?
Tell me why we got a war?
Why we gotta fight, why we always gotta spar for?
Why the cops always gotta get called?
Why you always tryna see me in trouble with the law?
I guess some things will never change
Locked in the cycle, tryna break the chains
Handcuffs so tight, nearly slit my veins
It's what tough love feels like, feel my pain
Uh

Tell me why you don't love me
Why you always misjudge me?
Why you always put so many things above me?
Why you lead me to believe that I'm ugly?
Why you never trust me?
Why you treat me like I don't matter?
Why you always kicking my ladder?
Why you never hearing my side to the story?
Never look me in my eyes, say sorry?

Because Amerikkka don't love me
Whole country turned on me
There's no love in the city for the homie
Just a gang of police, praying they don't ever catch it on me
'Cause Amerikkka don't love me
Whole country turned on me
There's no love in the city for the homie
Just a gang of police, praying they don't ever catch it on me

Amerikkka don't love me
Whole country turned on me
There's no love in the city for the homie
Just a gang of police, praying they don't ever catch it on me
America don't love me
Whole city turned on me
There's no love in the city for the homie
Just a gang of police, praying they don't ever catch it on me
Oh lord

Okay, Okay you red, white and blue
Now you no good Miss America
How you like this shit, huh?

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): ADAM PALLIN, JO-VAUGHN VIRGINIE, POWERS PLEASANT