She

She had a trench coat, some mad threes with her
Hot cup of tea and a Fader magazine
With some light blue jeans, real crown like a queen
And a Mac Air, but it ain’t the one she had last year
Wednesday, 1 o’clock, she don’t really got a job
She do her own thing, she ride her own wave
Only twenty people on the 'Gram that she followin'
Only post work, she ain’t tryna be a model chick
Same three friends, be the one she poppin' bottles with
Got trust issues, so she keep a lot, bottled in
She don’t do religion, not a Catholic or Protestant
She believe in white wine, feet up on the ottoman
Gotta little purse, that she only keep the ganja in
Low-key, got her own business and she mindin' it
Ex-niggas always in her phone, she like, «Not again»
If she get your number, you’ll be lucky if she lock it in
She from the hood, but she ain’t hood
She hella grounded, but the plane trips to BnB stay booked
Told me I should read the Four Agreements, it’s a great book
Cracked a little smile and she threw me back the same look, yeah