[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