2000
Send me the slaves
Bathed in their mothers' tears
The salt on the wounds
Form keloids it would appear
But no physical damage
Could truly compare,
To these children of slaves
Who are now scarred by the years
Blinded by history's cataracts
And no amount of blunts
Can bring their sight back
Instead they get the munchies
And hunt for a short stack
While they dream about
Racks on racks on racks
Forgetting their forefathers
Who really made stacks,
Packed into slave ships, like
Backs on backs on backs
Self destructive violence
Aint just
Blacks on blacks on blacks
It got to the point where its
Plax on Plax on Plax
Defeating ourselves
With no outside help
Imagine the difference
He couldve made with a belt
But that's not his swag
So he got locked up
For his sweatpants sag
And he might think
He gamed the system
Cuz he signed to the Jets
But the system dissed him
Cuz in his name
We know all is forgiven
If you play a game
If you got talent
Or the very least fame...
But for the rest of us
It all stays the same
