I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
He never liked classes, he was always a social cat
The cutest kittens forever where he at
The rudest men held positions at the flat
Mama loved him, but mama wanna man to help assist with this boy
This boy, swing and a miss
Bright eyed beautiful lips plumped with lies
Ma stumped and crying, but he don't ever ask why
Just kisses ma goodbye, zips his jacket up and goodnight
Skateboard or bike, like peace
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
You know why, 'cause he dislike the strife so avoids it
Don't trust teachers, 'cause they don't trust him
Don't trust motives, so he don't trust friends
Can't tell if most other people cold or just don't trust black skin
Displaced, the race card shuffled
The spade ace into a place where cards stayed blank
And not to say without a face, more like a lack of color
Not really too certain how to go about a brother
It wasn't always like that though
But mama moved him out the gutter to the curb so he wouldn't wash away
He didn't seem to get that though and mama wasn't really pullin' in that butter
So his bread came another way
And he couldn't have nice things, fuck 'em, he didn't even want 'em
If he needed 'em, he found a way to got 'em
Since everybody doubt him, he happily obliged to bide his time
And find his little piece of peace at the bottom like, fuck y'all
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
He build his self-esteem up off some tricks
'Cause even when he matched as far as skin with kids, it seemed they didn't mix
And there seemed to be disdain from the kids that clashed colors with him
Rebel yelling girls trying to make they daddy pissed
So ain't nobody on his buddy list
'Cause they would probably give him business about the shitty sweater he lives in
So he surrounds himself with hope to touch a throne
And other people feeling all alone, hold your heart
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
He found punk rock the first time
He rode either the nine or eleven bus line, it slips the mind
But the way they didn't need to fit in
He asked if he could pull the bell and said, "Mom, I wanna be like them."
Found his kin, brothers at school thinking he trying to rewrite skin
Other are fools never seem some shit like him
So far he's been a bitter boy
Living like litter no choice, no quieter, so cue the noise
Ain't nothing like a mohawk to show off your fuck off
And kick off the Reeboks for boots to keep the block off you
He could see how the re-route of style made the eyebrows raise
Not for nothing, wasn't changing you
He'd seen his daddy with a pipe, too young to understand
Life ain't coming from this man, holding hands with him
He probably didn't meant to hit him
He probably didn't even mean to plant his seed
Is my picture in his wallet with him?
He's thinking probably not
And even if so, it's probably rolled up with some coke in it
Old and out of focus so nope, the road they chose was not his
Nobody will ever be like him, hold your heart
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
I'm out of category
Out Of Category Lyrics performed by P.O.S. are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Out Of Category Lyrics performed by P.O.S. is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD