Flooded our 2 parent households.
Our new negro manifestations
Our talented tenth expectations
Our renaissance of talent
With dope
Better known as coke.
Split up our parents.
Turned our fathers into drug dealers.
Our mothers into fiends
Our children into caretakers
No hope
Flooded the prisons with our brightest.
The prison walls divided us.
The void in our heart we filled with resentment.
And hatred because…
How could you be a drug dealer?
How could you do drugs?
How could you get arrested?
How could you…if you loved me.
Now I’m raised by the system.
Becoming the original statistic
Waiting on food stamps and government handouts
because that’s the only way we’ll eat.
And now we’re broken again.
They got us again.
Slaves again
Making us not value us worked again.
But even the second time it wasn’t a choice.
It took Obama,
Wakanda,
And black men talking it out on podcast.
To turn around this intentional systematic tear down
Our 2Pac pain saved us.
The drug game taught us business.
Taught us marketing.
Taught us solutions.
Ex-cons gave us cautionary tales.
We took the pain, caution, and the business.
And created the rap business.
Then rap labels.
Then rap shows.
Then rap films.
Then rap clothing.
Then rap magazines.
Then rap stations.
Then rap podcasts.
Rap culture
Which became American culture.
Declaring to never be slaves again
Especially not on our own land
Never be slaves again.
Especially not when we share the same last name.
Never again.
Now you say it!
And believe it!
Then maybe we can achieve it.
