A Poetic Rant about the Artist

Black boy taught to be black by a white boy unheard of to be black within he knew all the rap lyrics the sound got through my head right through the Afro that my white mother combed out so I could be proud ,not so I could be like Malcolm X to show the house negro why he couldn't ride the freedom train with the field negro, often like my enemy's closer than I like my friends, but you dive deeper than Maya Angelou , you come up to fast after you read about the cage bird and got the bends .

Down in the West Indies there is a man with a nick name that means to stretch the neck of a negro and to devide a race, but to change our minds like in the movie we have to be gassed by Caesar to stay woke, but you laugh still amused at the joke. My white father could see fear in a man that would wear the mother land on his chest, but could not stay asleep when a white woman feared his son, who was wearing a cross colors hood ,way before that black boy that got some candy at 7-11 ,now he joins black parents in getting no rest.

Cross Colors was my ideology and I love my white parents but you never asked why but asked me was I willing to die for the cause one side or another when I am right in the middle, you wonder fam why my heart is so brittle , and why my experiences have molded how I feel about some of you cocky Caucasians , have to group a small few of you who do not think my color is dark enough, you might say I wasn't the only biracial kid who had it rough.

You wonder why the negro is always showing his teeth because we couldn't be truly happy in the day. Didn't know what to do or say we couldn't even react to life so we put laughs in a barrel, guess there wasn't much to have a giggle after the slave catcher made so many slaves sterile.