[Verse 1]
Black woman growing up inside America
Feels like the world never cherished ya
Met a girl named Erica, All she want is love
But no n***a want to marry her
All they do is judge by her looks
Not her character and bu*t when they stare at her
Men to her is bad luck so she put up barriers
Feeling no man will ever take her hand and care for her
Carry her to paradise and life
Her father always gave advice on things like lust and vice
Men do anything to lay the pipe
Before you let him stay the night, make sure his brain is right
Can you see his vision? Is your ambition within alike?
Can you see his dreams when he dream like Martin Luther's wife?
Do he say and buy you nice things? Does he treat you right?
Is he honest? Do he promise you a ring? Will you be his wife?
Will you be his queen? His everything? Keeper of the light? And most of all, is his philosophy Jesus-like?
[Hook 1] [x2]
This deacon said I preach it like the pastor
I'm just speaking for the people in the generations after
What you find, is divine, as you reading through this chapter, is the rhymes of an unsigned, mind of a rapper
[Verse 2]
Black male growing up inside America
Feels like the world never cherished ya
Media dismantles your character
Cops steady k**ing ya
Walk inside the store and the store owner stare at ya
Thinking that you stealing 'cuz your skin is black and beautiful
Young black men dying happens on the usual
Only time we wear a suit and tie is at a funeral
Quick to throw your gang sign instead of being mutual
This is something you should know
It's not where you're from, it's where you're at
Whether white or black, the weather is like Iraq
These races are fighting back. The government might attack The faces that wake us, when people trick us to take a nap
OG's supplying gats. Now young n***as riding strapped
They shoot and they fire back, me, I'd rather write a rap
Show 'em better ways and better days instead of selling crack
So to the dealer dealing yae, one day you will put down the pack
[Hook 2] [x2]
I have faith that all my n***as progress
And get up out the projects
Knowledge is a process
Dollars is an object
Homie, use your logic
Never sell your soul, the real gold in your conscience
[Outro] [x2]
And you can count on me
You can count on me