Is this truth or hate on my plate

 

        

 

 

 

 

……the cops are apart of some black ops and they’re pulling out all the stops, to keep blacks in a stalemate, to make it our fate, that half don’t even contemplate, an inescapable fate built on hate. Blasphemy; because man is suppose to commune with all things and realize we are gods in disguise, yet they still cheer while they drink their beer to the point they can’t steer, they veer off the road and fall from great heights and talk as if they’re right, I swear I want to fight. Jealous of my DNA, mad cause their hairy long torsos and wide pelvic bones can’t tan, they should be banned, talking bout they the man…. can’t help it I’m from the motherland and one ounce of Melanin is worth more then a grand, make their heads overload and explode, they better go drop a load. We people of the sun, we not in it when they say brothers and sisters, we the mommas and the poppas, not suppose to be on top of us, you nasty-man, you should wear a black cape and “N” on your chest man. Respect your elders, can’t lay with us, you’ll annihilate yourself, you don’t have that blessing, your genes are recessive, the baby will come out melanated and hated, that’s nature’s way of telling y’all your days are numbered. This ain’t Harriet Tubman, I ain’t running from Austin to Boston, cause it’s the same ole jive when we arrive. We gonna have to bang not sing.  Soon as we get these coons off their master’s spoons we can move pass June, forget a local celebration, we need to kick it with the Haitians and the Jamaicans, kick it to Africans until they kick it back and become our friends again, to the Arubans  and then over to Saint Thomas, the fact that we don’t act like fam is a jam, that’s how they win and keep that devilish grin, and we just keep taking it on the chin, that’s why our world is on tilt, cause we in the devil’s den drinking his gin and our head is in a spin.

 

Dedicated to:

 

Jayland Walker and Randy Cox