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