Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Black America's Dream

I am sick and tired of chasing a dream that has turned into a nightmare
Here I am scramblin in corporate America stripped down to my under ware
And ain't this a bitch! They got holes all in em'
Momma would beat me good for letting Mr. Whitey see me in em'
Maybe he should look less at the holes in my draws to focus on the ones in my pockets
Cause I got kids to feed and we fighting to survive
There no way in hell we can make it on 5.75.
An hour?
Damn I'm only making a lil over 40 dollars a day
But that damn Uncle Sam has raised urban rent prices
So how in the hell can I pay?
When ya'll thought this neighborhood was done
It was me and other brown faces raised here struggling to not become
One of your statistics, or lab rats to throw in jails or welfare lines
Can you really blame my brother for coppin a gun
All those days watching moms posted at the window praying the mailman would come
And if he gets caught in the dark, then his ass better run
Cause once they catch him, what's done is done
Now the media is spinning it as an outrage
"Something must be done about this neighborhood"
We been screaming that for years and now you come with your so called brilliant ideas
To turn my neighborhood good
Get yo ass out of here, we don't trust or believe you
And you damn right I'm biting the hand that's "suppose" to feed me
Cause you've been poisoning me for way to long