This game is thick, politics and pale faces
and these dark skin
negros, itchin to change places
wantin’ to reign supreme, niggas
catchin cases
where brothers turn fiend, cause they can’t face
this
the game ain’t told - it’s sold for brother souls
my people
live in poverty - Mr. Charlie sat on swoll
they wonder why the thugs
cry and their hearts turn cold
they got us twisted and deny our votes
at the white man’s poll
they brought us on boats to add labor to this
nation
infest our hoods with dope - now servin’s the
occupation
blind us to life by material infatuation
enslaved to
this living, screaming emancipation proclamation
I scream “set me
free from this land” through my third eye and see
monkey Tom singing
“my country tis of thee”
we steady searching for the land of
liberty
the sweet land of jewels that was promised to me
It was a
hoax the 40 acres and the mule
with the flow my people gettin played
as fools
time to wisen up, get a grip and use our tools
I know you
tired of poverty, being mistreated and abused
we got the knowledge -
slave labor built the land
they keep us out of college, so ignorance
is their plan
clearly I see mental freedom wasn’t meant for the black
man
trapped in society with statues and laws only they can
overstand
dark skin is a sin in this white man’s world
my brothers
drown their emotions by getting drunk til they hurt
who cares about
the early morning fiend twitchin for a fix
the united snakes of
american politics
