From the outside lookin' in I'm kinda like a mess,
but my take is a blessed show. I promise I'll say (?) never press like my father ones a kind of snuggin' black like the skin and I wiggle (?)

We all victims o' these modern times, fucked around and found a loophole with these modern rhymes.
The poster boy of these modern grind, I guess I'm just a victim of the modern age

CHORUS:
Don't go asking "confound me love"

I came and found this style flipped it up and handed to you listen to it sip with it a while. Wow. Smoke signals pow wow, indian styles down.
Got me sounding like a emo child, Lord help him child
he's a heathen while he pals around,
pounding out sound,
pounding to the pavement now.
He once found love, but that's all changing now.

CHORUS:
Don't go asking "confound me, love"

Yes now, we the toast of the town, cursin'
Checkin' bitches twistin' fatty sex,
big up to my daddy Zack,
come to grips with the fact that we seldom rap for blacks
and I don't know why that is.
Maybe (?) that the fact niggers can't afford my shows cos they got kids.
Can still go changin'.
Even though you blacked up and feel cased in,
break out the box and enrage them,
they're talking contradiction so face them.

(?) gave birth to Basquiat kids.
They gave birth to baby Basquiat kids.


Lyrics submitted by dr_steff

Victim of the Modern Age song meanings
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