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The crinkle in her hair
The bends of her waste
The fullness of her lips
I recognize as she sits under  the shade of that tree

The dip in his step
Wave breaks of his hair 
And the dialect spoken from his lips
I recognize as he walks in the shade of that tree

It's the pot calling  the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle
Insanity

As I sit basking in the sol 
I wonder why I recognize them
Why I see them so vivid under the trees camisole 
They must have a kindred spirit in them

They live comfortably under the shade
Almost as if they refuse to recognize me
Like I don't exist and is but a dot on a page
Why is it they act as if our connection can't be

It's the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Insanity

But I see how you invite them underneath the shade
Is it because there dermis isnt capable of with standing the sol
They only can have minimal light they say
Just so they can relate to you and I in that way

So you welcome them to rest up under the trees leaves and flowers
The way the green of the leaves sit surrounding the plumage is like God has Bob Ross powers
And all of them work to give you that beautiful shade
But you treat the flowers a different way cutting them just to give them away

It's the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle
Insanity

Soon that shade ain't as big as it used to be
And the one you welcomed leaves you be
Because you took the flowers from that tree 
And gave to them but like I said the sol they can't handle like me

They leave and I still sit here looking at you alone under that tree
Now ya'll ain't relaxing
It's almost like your hiding
Because you thought they would appreciate you but they decieved 

It's the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Insanity 

You know what yeah I point my fingers at you with no sympathy 
And a laugh because i may feel a little salty
Because I  would have never let you cut the flowers from that tree
And you treated me as though you didn't see

That's what you get
But I still think you're crinkle is fly
And the tone of your skin is fly 
And not to mention the hues of your eyes 

But so what you denied me
And on top of that you don't even know
That you can exist in the sol
And who am I to tell you now when you never wanted to relate with me

It's the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Insanity

So take your 23 and dig up your roots
You will see you are no different than me
Better yet you ain't no different than "we"
I don't know why you tried to deny me

Like you can't come out from under that shade tree
Or I can't come and sit with you underneath it comfortably 
Like the flower don't make a difference in the shade  so quit giving them away
Shoot it can withstand the sol the best I say
It stay beautiful even after being subjected to the sol's rays.

It's the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Calling the pot calling the kettle 
Hypocritical bigotry
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