I fill the tests out.
Until it’s dark out.
Oh, just another lonely night.
But, in college, it’s brains over your might.

Bitch I’m a scholar, not a court baller.
Smart son of mother, now look who’s just another.
As you count your wage hours, I climb iv’ry towers.
DJ Princeton Review with the beat, Imma need you on your feet.

Holla, holla, teach, it’s me you need-a call on.
Everybody know Imma motherfuckin’ scholar.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Flawless, flawless, bitches I’m stalwart.
Everybody know Imma motherfuckin’ scholar.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.

Best: AP or IB, hands down, huh?
I’m later scorin’ some mad degrees, huh?
And my letters beat your job at your fathers-s’
Tenured prof way over middle managements.

I pull figs in five or six, you lay tile til half-past six.
Study texts, beat the rest, wait ‘til later to have sex.
But my double majors doubled pools of y’alls high school ex.
Brain’s the muscle they want flexed; I boldly go on porn star treks.

I heard you say all through school that I did it lame.
Never changed, while I excelled at mind games.
Pullin’ all them A’s while you settled for your blasé.
Now that A-list forays into pay days.

Yeah I spend my days reading books and writing proofs now.
Later spend my evenin’s heatin’ ovens at yo’ boo’s house.
Showin’ her the second course is better than yo’ half-brau.
GorDAMN Ramsey makin’ hell in yo’ kitchen now.

So, what, motherfucker? What are you gonna do now?!
Nothin’ that’s what, cause nerdy’s the new cool now.
Not gonna pull flocks, they gon’ south,
Shit motherfucker, at 19 you start to cool down.

So you peaked early and I hold the prize.
So imma tell you now what I consider best advice:
“Sir do you wanna get fries with that order?”
Ah, get used to askin’ that on your shift at nights.

I ain’t sayin’ that you don’t have a place in life.
A labor class is vital to this country’s pride.
But I’m center stagin’ while you sing in the chorus line.
My stagin’s phasing past, while your phase is fadin’ fast.

Holla, holla, teach, it’s me you need-a call on.
Everybody know Imma motherfuckin’ scholar.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Flawless, flawless, bitches I’m stalwart.
Everybody know Imma motherfuckin’ scholar.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.

Einstein, Heisenberg, Curie, Tesla,
Teacher, fool, a mentor to confess to.
Question, what do these peeps all have in common?
Everybody knows I’m a motherfuckin’ scholar.

Study group, stoop to study-conquer.
Conquer. None of you bullies know where the pawn is.
None of you bullies know what T-H-A-C-0 is.
I two-hit your shit, you should be able to feel it.

Slammin’, slammin’ with hammers made of thought ha!
Solvin’ problems with words instead of brawn ha!
Advisin’ undergrads while you fad your visor, brah.
And do you know what fuels my vehicle, huh?

You. And you will never get on this.
All you’ll get is balding heads and then credit debts.
All you’ll get is divorced before your first kid’s briss.
Feelin’ bliss, a dunce cap tryst; all from the ignorance.

All I’ll get is what I want with these 4.0’s.
While you’ll just flee from the blue 5-0’s.
I smell the truth unfold.
Hard to swallow? Go back to school before you’re old.

Holla, holla, teach, it’s me you need-a call on.
Everybody know Imma motherfuckin’ scholar.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Flawless, flawless, bitches I’m stalwart.
Everybody know Imma motherfuckin’ scholar.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.
Imma need to see you at my graduation gala.

Roll up in de wheelchair,
No-need-for-you to stare
At a good brain, Hawkin’ from Brittain-iar.
Yeah in my day-planna, it says to make-a brand-ya.
You might have degrees, but my M.S. out-jams ya.
O.K., first things first, I’ll unravel space.
Then Imma put Ein-stein back in his place.
‘Cause that’s what a motherfucking scholar do.
Build-on those before him, make de brain accrue.
Phy-sicist from Ox-ford, that’s the scholar true,
I smoke deGrasse-Tyson, that’s the scholar new,
Young Sagan on de roster and the scholar crew.
And I roll up roll up roll up on the scene wiff de simple text
And if I stutta’, it don’t matta’: my theories be so complex.
Lemme get this straight wait I’m pit-tied?
But my theories and my books be-come yo’ creed?
90k for a speech, no eyes left dry:
Yeah my story’s so brave that my Heisenberg’s uncertain,
Bolder-than Will-iam Byrd’s chirpin’,
Shit, like the Curie is a-lertin’, all verdant,
Like Stephen on asymptote when I twerk-it,
Have these phonies-so-one-note spurtin’
Here’s a-brief history of T-I-M-E:
Dare you to doubt it; hey, what you got, see?
It’s just a re-ah-doing of relativity.
Yet I’ll say Papa Al-bert-is the O.G.
I-just-crushed another theory, it’s N.B.D.
Besides brie, Imma stand a-lone cheese,
I think-me-you-and Bohr should or-bit like “e-”.
Mech-ship, mind, chip, make ‘em shit-flip,
I think big, get ripped on my tech-lip.
This coordinated ball-a’s-Cartesian-ated, holla!
Ahhhhhh, I’m a motherfucking scholar.