Instead I bang out a rhythm
make the door a drum
make my fist a mic
make my words a bullhorn
make my truth the air
Stop killing, brother
you are already marked
because of your color
So why not put us all in jail?
Chance we’ll become like snails
Chance we won’t rebel
On me, they left indelible scars
I’m over here spitting rhymes behind bars
They thought the box would get me
like Kunta in captivity
but I’m still free
Up north I come from down south
with the greatest tool
my mouth my words my rhymes
dark in skin tone like the dapperest of Dan
talking about history
too many young folks
living in mystery
things I have read
and talked about
all this bloodshed
all this death
but neither hurt my ears
nor left my eyes in tears
I overcame fears
not afraid to take a chance
’cause pain grips my heart
as I look to the motherland
I am here in captivity
Who is more free
you or me?
