I'm seasoned for the season
I'm here for a reason
Let's be real I ain't sign up for this show, y'all invited this heathen
It's as apparent & clear as a gangster with (tatted) tears
That it's dirt on my shoulders & it's supposed to be there
Know that the rapture is near
(Know that a spot in heaven isn't free)
Know that they k** out of fear
And the next body is me
As far as I can see
If the body guard not positioned where he supposed to be: that poster child gone catch a few
His momma cry, his body bleed
And he was nothing but an innocent seed
Planted for purpose not paper
Because they choppin' the trees
And spillin' blood on the leaves
Before they even SEE what it means… to grow up…
Before they even blossom a leaf (k**in' the offspring)
I'm pleading them to be left alone
But they catch me looking sideways
And interrupt the peaceful route home
Leave two in my dome
And blam, news report: ANOTHER BLACK KID GONE. (Checkmate!)
[Who watchin careful over me as I scribble my songs?]
Who's policing the police?
I seen news feed of bodies layin for hours in these cold streets
But we more consumed by new songs & what's fleek
Forget ya Instagram
Because the instant, perpetual motion of racial hatred
Making me grow impatient
As I ponder militant Malcolm's mixed syllables 'bout overcompensation of patience and hospitals filled with patients
Overflowing like the jail cells
Who say that we'll never make it.
My good side been vacant
The angel on my shoulder grew wary of my conscience
Because it didn't coincide with the consequence.
Bad judgement got me feelin' right
It might not end that way
But that's the price you pay to live life
I came to learn ain't no wrong and right
Because I left my house thinking I was alright
Before they gave my mom the call to say 'he's not coming home tonight'
And ain't no bail payment that can revive his rights
Because they took his life before he could even approach 'em nice
In this game of life, you either dying or you living
Let the latter be my decision
But they trained to shoot with precision
So the bullets in my direction were never designed to miss him
They more like kin to missiles
The canon blow & the bodies just come up missin'
It's mystical how much evil entraps me
And the never ending cycle of d**h can no longer attract me
My attention span is just as American as the clothes that enwrap me
Made in China by a Mexican who'd prolly spit at me
The lack of truth in my speech is probably frightening
Can't decide if I'm catalyst or victim of capitalism?
But maybe the choice of choosing alone just allows me to be labeled another -ism
The divides lead to masochism
Like Ma**as with mulattoes, whose conception is hidden
But if the dark comes to the light
Why I'm at war with life?
Why the reaper poking at me with his knife?
Why I see nightmares in broad daylight?
Why the questions I'm asking even questions at all?
Why I question my faith.
Why would I compromise my position for the decision to speak my mind, with no guarantee that they'd even listen?
Maybe it's sanity that I'm missin'
Maybe the only mistake I ever made WAS to make a decision
Maybe we all nostalgic
Maybe a father figure was missin'
Maybe I was my own man
Maybe I had my own plan
Maybe this isn't for me
And maybe this isn't meant to be
I hope we learn soon enough before we become the end that we see…
I'm now regretting my infatuation with destiny
And because of that I might not ever rest in peace
Because I'll be too busy living eternally.