Kiese Laymon - American Secrets: New York City lyrics

[Verse 1: Akil b STRANGe] I remember when white folk started looking at me different We were only like 11, but no longer seen as children ‘Cause the precinct got a whole book of statistics I now fit in And, according to Mr. Policeman, I match a description Now his presence is persistent during, in, and after school They treat it like a criminal offense each time we act a fool I mean, true, we was rude, but sh** we was from the hood That just means a little attitude's in everything we do So the first time a cop arbitrarily stopped me, I was so scared Barely had hair on my nuts, I hadn't even smoked yet Told me that I stole sh**. Poked me and provoked me But my pops taught me the procedure so I was prepared Not too much eye contact. Hands outside my pockets With the knowledge that sudden moves could be seen as attempts at violence ‘Cause the Amidou Diallo trial verdict haunts my subconscious Can't wrap my young mind around this precedent. It's too big to process Then in 9th grade, school wasn't round my way no more My relationship with the police ain't changed much though Plus I'm dressing like a thug, smoke, and selling bud Found this girl that gives it up, that lives out in Bensonhurst But each time I visit her, the hara**ment's so much worse I said, "Damn this p**y's good, but this sh** just isn't worth it” Now imagine a 14 year old boy giving up that play ‘cause I don't feel safe round her way and I'm too embarra**ed to say so That's real rap. Real black life, doc Used to keep weed in my sock on the off-chance that I was stopped All my white pothead friends ain't do that sh** though They'd be acting mad hot boy like, "It's cool, bro” I became aware of the inequities between them and me Like how much tenser I would be with cops in the vicinity And comfortable they'd be exercising their liberties Now I got me a good degree and sh** is still the same That's probably because policing in the States are renamed Slave patrols created to hold and control newly freed slaves Profiling is so ingrained as a part of police procedure And they don't seen too anxious to make no changes to it neither That's why I be like, “f** the PD! (f** the PD!) f** Ray Kelly! (Hey!) f** the PD! (f** the PD!) f** Giuliani! (Hey!)” That's why I be like, “f** the PD! (f** the PD!) f** Ray Kelly! (Hey!) f** the PD! (f** the PD!) f** Giuliani! (Hey!)” [Verse 2: MC Grizzz] I see the block through my blue eyes Invisible criminal, cop get the drop on me, probably never scrutinize My white skin glows ghostly in the streetlight Scared to be alone, walking mostly in the streetlights Why? What the f** am I afraid of? There's no one out to catch me. You can check the data That mayor is a racist. He hates you and your neighbors but he loves me Come see. They wouldn't dare touch me Watch it, and make sure it really happened They wouldn't testify if I confessed it to the captain Talking dirty ‘cause the truth is like that sewer there The block is my safari, and I'm looking for a souvenir A bag of something evil, the color of my people Look how I'm walking eager, my Cosby sweater leaking sweat like O god I'm fiending for the rush in my blood stream an' I touch demons and they touch me back Saw this group on a stoop, thinking, Ooh they must sell d** Why? Why? ‘Cause they're young and black I, I asked them if they knew that white girl Nervous, so I stuttered. One of them asked me, “Which white girl?” Awkward with the slang, I'm a tight pants hipster Don't know how to talk the game, white sands sniffler “Um, I wanna buy d** from you please.” I wish he'd said f** off; instead he looked pleased “Oh wait right there. What you want? A g?” He said his cousin's coming down the stairs with what I need The cousin daps me up with the baggy in his palm But I clap his hand wrong, drop the baggy on the street He gives me this look. I just pick it up The cops is probably watching but I just don't give a f** I know I'm not suspicious to that DT in his civies There's a siren in his civic. I can see by how he fidget But it doesn't' fidget me See, my brown suede, K-Mart Clarkes don't make a sound on the pavement I don't need sneakers. Police will keep my secrets Walking back home to a home I shouldn't have White college students moving in on the ave Pocket full of bad news but frankly I'm relaxed Actually I'm giddy just to open up that bag Not a single thought given to the children and the women And the men in some foreign land Getting mistreated so I have a better weekend f** that, I sniff it by myself and start tweaking Write a couple raps about a life without reason Damn! I think I am the man but I'm The Man [Mayor Bloomberg] Most crimes in our city — serious crimes — are committed by male minorities fifteen to twenty-five That's why I got George Soros to put $30,000,000 in. I put $30,000,000 of my own money in. $60,000,000 of the city's money to try to go after this group I think we disproportionately stop whites too much, and minorities too little …