Prone to apprehension increase your comprehension
Son of a prophet selling your soul to market
Surrender your identity to media exploitation the rotation continues with each imitation.
Blasphemous. Art is life but what’s dead can’t be recreated when the craft is in slippery hands.
In God we trust. Slandering innocence upon dividends dining on their diligence bastardizing citizens: these are your politicians.
Snakes in the grass attacking the mass onslaught of unsuspecting. Oblivious to the neglecting until its shoved in our faces.
Switch places with the unawares out of obscurity temporarily advertising our own purity
When the system is biased to protect the non-compliant those policymakers bending laws just to break us
We rise then fall swifter than mister could steal a dollar from our pocket we are the American profit
Benefiting from keeping us ignorant brethren we are not. United we can’t be. Plotting on our brothers and pillaging our sisters does not equate a family tree.
Spiritually unaroused stirred feelings reflect nothing of our Creator who made us then saved us only for repetition to condemn them. To end them. Commit them as felons who are we?
Woe to those refusing nourishment suffering self-inflicted perjury the cycle continues. We demonstrate self-hate in different venues.
Whether it be sacrificing our temple to undeserving men, leaving behind no legacy for our children, or counting our value through monetary spending.
Even more ironic is the image of a black man, in a hoodie and timbs although iconic is not my killer. No sir no sir.
The clean-shaven man in a pinstripe suit my people failed to keep out of office stole my life when none of them voted he elected my existence conditioned no protection. So when my people dismissed the election the ink in his pen signed the dotted line to my death sentence.
I’m walking dead until the marksmen orders my kill. Positioning no place for me in the justice system, my words they can twist them, my people they can symbolically lynch them by sending them to prison.
Statistics don’t lie they don’t like my kind.
Experimenting diseases on my people, introducing drugs and other evils, numbing our brain cells by hiding education when we’re not even equipped to seek it.
This is our hell chasing heaven in chariots that are programmed on the wrong path leading to our destruction.
I can’t sit idly by knowing that the golden rims don’t spin for my entertainment this is the arraignment prepared to distract me from protecting my people’s constructions.
Why do my sisters concern themselves with whose prettier when there is a war on our unborn babies. Our wombs become tombs when they fail to teach us the worth of a lady. Growing up idolizing Barbie dolls who lack our complexion we missed that lesson.
And mothers love your sons with the undying affection that lies in your heart so hopefully they grow to respect what we have to offer, and the cycle stops.
You won’t win my soul by teaching me apathy, America.
You can lie to an entire nation but I see through.
These words that I spit on this stage, and live every day until my last breath is made…is my truth.
