Now my hair smells like smoke
Something's burning, I don't know what it is
I won't laugh at your dumbass jokes, white boy

I don't owe you anything
I am learning not to sing for you
Your cage is not Maya Angelou's, white boy

You've still got a grip on me
Sword to hilt, hand to God
Bring me to my knees

If I stand down, if I bleed
If I am what you ask me to be
White boy, what will you make of me?

Passion play, almost biblical
White girl arrives, I turn invisible
I don't like who I am to you, white boy

Trance state, you're hypnotic
Twirl my hair, watch my voice jump the octave
I don't like who I am for you, white boy

But you've still got a grip on me
Sword to hilt, hand to God
Bring me to my knees

If I stand down, if I bleed
If I am what you ask me to be
White boy, what will you make of me?

You've still got a grip on me
Sword to hilt, hand to God
Bring me to my knees

If I stand down, if I bleed
If I am what you ask me to be
White boy, what will you make of me?

What will you make of me?
What will you make of me?