They say the blacker the berry
The sweeter the juice.
I say our melanin skin
Tends to blend with the bruise
And marinate in its confusion.
They labeled us “useless”
But for (four) hundred years
They slaved and abused us.
Then traded us for new ones.
No need for gift receipts
Cause they breed us just to make new sons.
Beat, pulped and juiced us
Stripped of Vitamin B (free)
And left us malnourished and foolish.
Auctioned off like Sadie Hawkins
To the highest bidder.
Dead man walking to his coffin
Bled then bread, we “liver”.
Shelf-living action figures
Black toys for white kid-ders
House-cleaning field niggers
Who can’t afford the things we pickup,
Like cotton.
Oxymoron how we so often
Slave at work then buy a white-T,
Flossin!
Now we get ‘em 5 for $10
Ancestors served 25 to life to pick,
Cotton.
Now its the uniform of the hood.
We throw ‘em on under hoodies
Hit the hood, what’s good.
We slang in our white-T
Bang in our white-T
Don’t let a dude trip
And spill his drank on our white-T.
He give you the ice grill
You throw up your heat like “peace”.
He’s packing too
Say hello to his mini-me’s.
Three guns clap like an R and B trio
When the music stops
On the ground
Two negroes.
Killed in the streets
It happens way to often.
All over a red pro-club
Blood cotton.

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