This track is dedicated to our hardworking educators in the public school systems. For those of you who know me from real life, you know that I proudly served for five years in the Oakland Unified School District, and for four years prior to that as an adult ESL teacher. Is it a noble and meaningful profession? Definitely. The teachers that teach because they love it are the finest human beings you’ll ever meet.. they are better than people like me. Do the public schools have problems that are setting its students up for failure? Abso-fucking-lutely.. and you’re smoking crack if you can’t empathize with that. I simply could no longer identify with the system.. therefore I left, after many sleepless nights and lots of intrinsic hell.
Portable C (Dear Public Schools) Verse 1: “All the hoes spend gwap on they butts and boobs/ but won’t ever give to a public school/ taught in Oakland, five years, I’m fucking through/ with conditions, we became accustomed to/ ughh! guns on the campus, guys could shoot/ all the kids hella scared, damn I was too/ fosho’ they gon’ end up with PTSD/ where my people of color with them PhD’s/ bring in the coast guards, autism specialists/ 90K salary, hospital therapists/ gotta apologize, kids I failed you/ please forgive my shortcomings, and betrayal/ I’m a piece a shit, acknowledging my faults/ you can go to Harvard, the problem is the cost/ college be expensive, honestly I’m lost/ my coke selling potnas got dollars and they floss/ but graduates are left, with massive debt/ couple hundred in the bank, after cashing checks/ not enough for what we want, though we earned it/ take a close look at schools and ask, was it worth it?/”
Chorus: “The underpaid teachers, rock with us/ the traumatized students, rock with us/ the parents on drugs, rock with us/ but the schools have failed, nothing left to trust/ the true educators, rock with us/ the special ed children, rock with us/ the whole neighborhood, rock with us/ but the schools have failed, nothing left to trust/”
Verse 2: “Good morning third grade, sit your ass down!/ you’re late Mr. Kensho, aye, I passed out/ in the bushes by the bar, couldn’t find my car/ made it to the station, but fell asleep on Bart/ then puked on the schoolyard, I’m so hungover/ lost all my lesson plans, and all your homework/ everyone passes, I’m not grading shit/ I know that I’m biased, you’re my least favorite/ if you never be quiet, and play on your phone/ I keep telling you, leave the gay kid alone/ all bullshit aside, I worry about —–/ always crying in class, bringing lots of drama/ mom’s on drugs and recently lost her father/ I’ve never been ready to deal with such trauma/ chain smoking Newports during prep time/ feel like a part of the school to prison pipeline/ I walked away yeah you can call me selfish/ but I got so depressed from feeling helpless/ far from a saint, just a regular dude/ we need more than the lessons, scheduled in school/”