I'm sitting in class with my hands on my head
And my feet resting calm on the floor
I'm not thinking bout what the teacher just said
It's a subject that I've learned before
It's about communists, prose, or eight over pi
Fact is: doesn't matter to me
I sit back and relax as my hands kiss the sky
And I pull down my old 93

See my mom doesn`t know if I smoke or I drink
If I lie or I cut or I steal
She don't know what I'm doing, don't know what I think
And I know she don't know how I feel
She tends to herself, except for my grades
Only then does she care about me
I could kill 30 people, and come down with AIDS
As long as I get 93

I work and I work, for no reason at all
As if this is all there's to do
I can't care about anything, be it big or it small
And I've certainly no time for you
But I keep on persisting, and now I know why
Cause the person I do it for's me
I look at my test, and smile all high
Cause I racked up one more 93