Black Bullshit

Sometimes I sit in a drunken stare, gazing at myself in the mirror
As if to speak volumes of self
My inner most secrets, I keep it
It gives my own dreams new themes and my mind schemes depth
The more original the man, the more potent to his land
The more positive his outlook, the more he will understand
In an era where our brethren are dying over trade
And dying overseas in many army brigades,
Young boys with sagging jeans and dreds instead of braids
Invest time into drugs and guns instead of grades
And the meth, smack, crack-cocaine…
Not only runs rampant in the streets but rampant in our veins,
Slaves in mental chains, in the wait of Moses
From the youngest to the oldest, the modest and the boldest
the ignorant even know of this wrath
no Hebrew babies put in baskets…they’re only black babies in the trash