Africa’s son
I see you disguised in that oversized white T
But why settle to be another Jay Z
When you might possibly be the next W.E.B Dubois?
What can I do to help you quiet the noise of the well-intentioned little black boys?
Who, like crabs in a barrel, love to live in peril
Who would rather lay in bed getting head
Making you think that they were actually getting ahead
And then I read that these dead men tried to pull you down
Tried to break your crown and your spirit
Why?
Because you simply would not hear it
Because you dared to see a destiny passed Pico and Normandie boulevard
And believe me, I know that it’s hard
For a black man to walk while scarred
But you fool yourself if you think that it is not essential and perhaps even inconsequential
For you to force the world to acknowledge your potential
And to perceive you as more than just a destined black athlete
And that boulder on your shoulder forces you to look older
As you swagger aggressively down the street
Passed that woman whom you’ll never meet
Who clutches her purse
I observe and even I feel worse
Because I know that Africa’s son has finally begun to succumb to the lies that we have fed you from within
That some how God’s sin resulted in our black skin
So baby we need repentance
Because we have contributed to your sentence
The psychological warfare on the young black man’s mind is, indeed, our failing
And I am convinced it is the reason for your internal ailing
An audacious sickness that says if you walk out that door
You will most likely be one of four
Destined to be another failed incarcerated black man’s bitch.
And then I wonder which
Position you would rather be
His penetrator or his penetrate-ee
And I pray to God that that is truly not your destiny
Hoping that eventually you finally uncover the conduit
That teaches you how to ditch this shit of depressed geographical entrapment
That you would finally push away your mother’s tit,
And embrace solid food,
And call it crude but you need something of meatier substance
Because your molars and sharp-ass bicuspids
Leave your mother bleeding as a result
But that is the consequences of suckling an adult.
Baby I am longing for the day
When you finally wake up and say
Enough is enough
You are a prince, therefore you are a king in the making
No longer is your life ours for the taking