Six blocks home and I know the fucking drill, Keys laced through my knuckles, walking up that hill. "Hey beautiful" — shut your mouth, I don't want it, Manners don't matter when you're being a shit. Cross the street, you're still running your mouth, Cross the street, you follow me south, Call me rude for staying quiet, Call me cold — fuck your riot. This ain't my curb appeal, This is survival, this is real, Your "compliment's" a countdown clock, I don't owe you shit, not eye contact. Keep walking, keep talking, I'm not stopping, not stalling, Six blocks home and back again, Curb appeal was never fucking consent. You call it flattery, I call it a tax, Paid in silence, paid in cracks, In the sidewalk where my eyes stay down, Mapping exits out of every goddamn town. Cross the street, you're still running your mouth, Cross the street, you follow me south, Call me rude for staying quiet, Call me cold — fuck your riot. This ain't my curb appeal, This is survival, this is real, Your "compliment's" a countdown clock, I don't owe you shit, not eye contact. Keep walking, keep talking, I'm not stopping, not stalling, Six blocks home and back again, Curb appeal was never fucking consent. Not a compliment, not a game, Not a mirror for your fucking name, I don't perform for a passing car, I just want to get where the fuck I am. Get where I am. Get where I am. This ain't my curb appeal, This is survival, this is real, Your "compliment's" a countdown clock, I don't owe you shit, not eye contact. Keep walking, keep talking, I'm not stopping, not stalling, Six blocks home and back again, Curb appeal was never fucking consent. Curb appeal was never fucking consent.
