在手机上保存，获得更好体验
I could never be a gangster—I'm too pretty for that mess,
Rock my belt on my waist, not my knees like the rest.
Credit score sittin' high—seven-eighty, no cap,
While you flexin' fake chains, still trapped in Navient’s trap.
I got good skin, good credit, and a paid-off phone,
Meanwhile, you out here rentin’ Jordans, actin’ grown.
Tryna thug online, but your WiFi laggin’,
You postin’ “street shots” from your momma’s cabin.
Talkin’ 'bout my girl? Boy, you wild like a goat,
Still eatin’ dino nuggets on a Star Wars plate you tote.
Got a lot to say, but you live with your cat,
She swipe left too—now how gangsta is that?
I floss with a library card, that’s real literacy,
You rock a knockoff watch—just tickin’ inconsistency.
I moisturize daily, got a skincare plan,
While you still askin’ Siri how to “be the man.”
My girl love my laugh and my 401(k),
You love that one hoodie you been wearin’ since May.
Your “ops” is your uncle who won’t split the rent,
You rage in your room, then ask mom where she went.
I'm the type to tip 30% at a diner,
You the type to flex five bucks like a shiner.
I don’t need no gun—I got God and a planner,
You still textin’ your ex with a “U up?” banner.
So talk your talk with your dollar store bling,
I’m out here thrivin’, eatin’ kale and chicken wings.
You throwin’ shade while I sip herbal tea in the sun,
Pretty boy problems—I’m the soft-spoken one with a pun.
Pretty boy problems—don’t confuse it with weak,
I’m polite with receipts and my skincare sleek.
While you wildin' for clout, I’m aligned and composed,
Your whole vibe’s rented—mine’s naturally glowed.
No chains, no games, just a vision and peace,
Pretty boy problems—I age like a lease.
Got plants in my crib—yeah, I talk to my ferns,
You argue with strangers and still ain’t learned.
Iron my shirts, fold socks in pairs,
You still ask your momma if she doin’ your hair.
I do yoga on the daily—namaste and chill,
You break a sweat just checkin’ the mail bill.
I journal my goals with a color-coded pen,
You manifest debt while pretendin’ to win.
I’m emotionally stable, hydrated, and clean,
You go ghost for a week when you lose in 2K’s screen.
Got a therapist and a morning routine,
You got conspiracy threads and expired protein.
While you ghostin' chicks, I'm hostin' brunch,
Mimosas and affirmations before my lunch.
You still talk “alpha,” but cry in the dark,
I read bell hooks with my girl at the park.
I'm buildin’ wealth with a Roth and a will,
You still dreamin' ‘bout deals that won’t foot the bill.
I’m designer in thought, not just my shoes,
You stuck in 2010, still quotin’ fake news.
Pretty boy problems—don’t confuse it with weak,
I’m polite with receipts and my skincare sleek.
While you wildin' for clout, I’m aligned and composed,
Your whole vibe’s rented—mine’s naturally glowed.
No chains, no games, just a vision and peace,
Pretty boy problems—I age like a lease.
So go ‘head and bark with your TikTok rage,
I'm out here turnin’ 30 like I’m center stage.
I don’t fight—I finesse, don’t flex—I invest,
You out here postin’ threats while I’m booked and well-dressed.
I'm the king of calm with a lavender mist,
You're mad ‘cause your crush liked my skincare list.
Pretty ain't weak, it's precision and peace,
Now excuse me while I steam my linen crease.
Pretty Boy Problems...
