See we just out here tryna succeed, But they just wanna see us all fall. Don’t like the color of my skin, But like my features and all.

Tryna crush us into pieces, But we stand too tall.

Try and say this is their land, that they built this sh*t hole,

But really, they’d probably be dead if it weren’t for our strong souls. My ancestors, forced to build this place,

Our bodies of natural Black hair With the finest Black bone.

Bodies in shackles,

Our communities against the cops. Thrown up against the jail bars, Protective gestures to prevent bullet holes In my left-side chest,

Through the finest Black breast bone. Screaming,

DON’T SHOOT!

Screaming, HANDS UP!

Is the response of their fictional fear

To now what is a lifeless body In the street.

They must be deaf in both ears To the pleading innocence

Drained out by the explosion of hatred They expell all year.

Excuses aged with reconstruction of

I Don’t Give A F*ck!

Engraved, inside the local sheriff’s hat.

Inscribed in his badge.

Must be scriptures of his past

Ancestral footsteps he tries desperately to fill.

He tries to purge the world of what God splurged Will this become an eye for an eye?

Hey, I’m just tryna stay positive in a world full of blind.