They tell me I should fix my grill 'cause I got money now,
I ain't goin' sit around and front like I ain't thought about it.
A perfect smile is more appealing but it's funny how
my stuff is crooked, look at how far I done got without it.
I keep my twisted grill just to show the kids it's real,
we ain't picture perfect, but we worth the picture still.
I got smart, I got rich, and I got women still,
and they all look like my eyebrows:
thick as hell.
Love yourself, girl, or nobody will.
Though you're a woman, I don't know how you deal
with all the pressure to look impressive and go out in heels.
I feel for you,
killing yourself to find a man that'll kill for you.
You wake up, put makeup on, stare in the mirror, but it's clear that you can't face what's wrong.
No need to fix what God already put his paint brush on.
Your roommate yelling,
"Why you gotta take so long?"
What it's like to have a crooked smile.
This crooked smile.
To all the women with the flaws, know it's hard my darling,
you wonder why you're lonely and your man's not calling.
You keep falling victim 'cause you're insecure,
and when I tell you that you're beautiful, you can't be sure.
'Cause he don't seem to want you back, and it's got you asking,
so all you see is what you're lacking, not what you're packing.
Take it from a man who loves what you got,
and baby girl, you're a star, don't let 'em tell you you're not.
Now is it real?
Eyebrows, fingernails, hair.
Is it real?
If it's not, girl you don't care,
'cause what's real
is something that the eyes can't see,
that the hands can't touch, that them broads can't be,
and that's you.
Never let 'em see you frown,
and if you need a friend to pick you up, I'll be around.
And we can ride with the windows down, the music loud,
I can tell you ain't laughed in a while, but I wanna see that crooked smile.
Crooked smile, we could style on 'em.
Crooked smile, we could style on 'em.
We don't look nothin' like the people on the screen,
you know, the movie stars, picture perfect beauty queens.
But we got dreams, and we got the right to chase 'em,
look at the nation: that's a crooked smile braces couldn't even straighten.
Seems like half the race is either on probation
or in jail; wonder why we inhale, 'cause we in hell already.
I ask if my skin pale, would I then sell like Eminem or Adele?
But one more time for the 'Ville,
forget all of that beef stuff, brother let's make a mill'.
Hey officer man, we don't want nobody getting killed,
just open up that cell, let my brother out of jail,
I got money for the bail now.
Well now, if he asking will I tell now?
Hey, hell naw,
ain't snitching 'cause
man, they giving brothers stitches now.
If you was around, then you wouldn't need a witness now.
How you like this crooked smile?

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