You were given a job, by a Being; Supreme,
you either do it alone, or you work as a team.
And money for the bills don't grow on trees
if it did the grumbling bellies wouldn't be so hard to appease.
And the job isn't easy
sometimes it's so tough
and the world's so greasy
the streets are so rough.
Yet the clock is ticking and time is flying
babies crying
for attention that you can't give
working 12 hour shifts just so y'all can live.
But if you don't teach your son
the dope-dealers will.
They'll teach him how to rob,
and teach him how to kill.
Teach him women are the enemy, and how to use them at his leisure
Cuz his mother was just too busy to spend time being his teacher.
But you spend money, don't spend energy and time.
Oblivious to the injustice, blind to the real crime
being committed everyday, the situation is so dire
All you know is you're a man, and you're a provider.
Gotta make the money,
put food on the table
cuz it sure ain't funny
when you're just unable
look your lover in eyes and tell her you can't cater
to a life you conceived, that's supposed to be greater.
I get it!
You have no choice but to work like a slave
and hope that the pension's enough to offer, when you're carried to your grave.
And whatever she needs, you will get on your grind
you can spend all your money, but can't spend time.
But if you won't teach your daughter
a prostitute might
teach her to harden her heart
and walk the streets at night.
Teach her all men are dogs, they all cheat and lie
Cuz her father wasn't there to teach her otherwise.
wasn't around to guide her, show her the truth.
Teach her why she shouldn't walk around so loose.
Show her, her mother's a Queen
and she's one too.
How real men act
and what real men do.
and all things righteous you have to instill
if you don't teach your child
then someone else will...
deforeman
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Someone Else
CATEGORY
life
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hymnagen says: Tight |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY deforeman
Dear Black ManDear Black Man, I hope this reaches you in great spirits, like the ones of your fathers They built roads over the bones that we use to travel on everyday And now we rush to the plantations, except they got computers now, We facebook you, like you’re far away from the land that they took you! And your kids are grown now And it seems they forgot They once called me God when I nurtured them from my breast That you lust when you see me hips spread like the ocean, That they dragged your Queen over, shackled her in chains and collars and now your sons won’t bother Left us raising Kings on our own Praying the streets don’t suck him in, auction him off on them blocks he stands on Everyday I shed tears for you I recall when you were royal When you would die for your Queen The children revered your every step, and it’s like we have nothin...  |
How To Raise A QueenThey asked me, how can I raise a Queen when I’ve never been one myself? Low self-esteem Had me sleeping with more than just one Counting 5 kids later, with fathers on leave How could I conceive or grab the essence, of such a royal presence? To teach a child watching With a brain like a sponge When I’ve plunged into hell and came back with demons ran with heathens and whores and had to fight them too. They ask how can I possibly Without awkwardly Being hypocritical Teach a girl to be a Queen without it seeming fictional. When I didn’t love myself Till my health compromised And I couldn’t be myself So I wore a disguise And guys would take advantage I spent days getting faded How can ... |
Strange FruitIt's been a long time since the lyrics were written. |
Before They Let Me Save YouThey would see me dead before they let me save you, |
Like SheepThou hast given us like sheep |
Do You Know What It's LikeYou say you understand, you feel the pain have immense remorse for all the lives slain you want to stand beside us fight for the cause but it could be your guilt looking for an applause. You say damned if you do and damned if you dismiss so if you speak the truth then answer me this... do you know what's like to travel across seas far from home but your not feeling the breeze and your stomach won't hold because you don't travel like this often trapped in a space no bigger than a coffin? Can you feel the oxygen leaving the pain just from breathing to your left, a corpse to your right a body seizing? Scraps for food forced to fight to live and the only thoughts you have are of those of your kids? You can't understand the language<... |
Drinking From One CupThe night is still quiet all except the rain beating against my window sound of the breeze whistling through the trees yes the night is calm only missing one thing... Fresh from the shower water beading off my skin peanut butter brown Shea buttered down the smell of jasmine and eucalyptus leaves no radio no TV for me tonight on this calm night I can feel the wind has found its way through the window slightly cracked and the smell of the rain has got me slightly relaxed just chillin in an old t-shirt in my room where I have no use for panties Shea buttered down on this peanut butter brown skin of mine feeling so divine in a candlelit room I reach over to grab my glass of red wine ... |
Shot BackIt got peaceful once, on a cold day...we held hands to stay warm. But have yanked our arms away pulling fingers out of the socket. We used to smile at each other singing songs and chanting "Justice!" No longer did we have to lace the perimeter with peppers and salts, confusing the dogs trained to rip the flesh from our limbs, but those days are long gone. No Malcolm to teach us, no Martin to preach hope, just confused children, marching in the street. Searching for justice, screaming "f*ck the police!" and it seemed to me no one cared, they justified the murders, creating excitement when they said no indictment. And it happened once, twice, three, and four times. Like an order was given, but those souls have risen, and are recruiting those left to avenge the lost world. Avenge the murder of the dead little g... |
Re-RunMomma, tell me what I see is an illusion, tell me why we still fighting for our inclusion? My skin is brown and they hate me, what have I done, To make them so filled with hate? They want me to bury my son. It’s like a re-run Tell Junior make it home before dark If the sun sets on his skin, he’ll feel their jaws like the shark They told me it wasn’t them, their ancestor’s sins But I can see the resemblance, it’s hidden in their grins The same smiles they wore staring at black carcasses hanging from trees And the streets are still burning, three thousand degrees. Tell me that we’re not still marching for the same fight Assure me that my father will make it home tonight In this land of the free, and the price isn’t cheap Like the Movement meant nothing, still being put to sleep. And it hasn’t yet ... |
LostI’ve turned cold on the inside, |