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Mama's outside, barbecuing ribs and links, |
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It's Juneteenth, but to me it don't mean stink. |
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It's a day of emancipation, but everybody wonder why |
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Willie ain't celebrating. |
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But things ain't perfect. |
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I'm looking beyond the surface. |
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So instead of drinking beer, and playing Dominoes, |
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I'm sitting in the room with my eyes closed. |
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White man and the mental yet ta black ol'shade, |
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White man and the mental yet ta blacd ol'shade? |
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For tellin' black mon no matta the dum'smarta rich |
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If the matta mo'mon jus a white mon's bitch |
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De givin us crack to let the ghetto people |
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Coming to the problem of the world, |
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blaming racial discrimination when they fuckin' up the self, |
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Willie D slap the thigh, and K-Rino crack despise |
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black mon get the government dick out ya eyez |
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Follow me now, see, as I get a little deeper, |
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they think I'm a drug dealer, 'cause I wear a beeper. |
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But if I wasn't black, and I talked all proper, |
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they probably think I was a doctor. |
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I try to have the finest things in life, |
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but when I get'em, they say I'm not living right. |
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They search my car and house for no reason, |
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like it's muthafuckin' goddamn nigga season. |
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And it is when U think about it, |
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they hurt yo'ass, treat U like an animal, and bragg about it. |
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It's like a cop turnin' vicious as a 12-gauge |
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no wonder why he gets his picture on the front page. |
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Now even if you're light, and damn near white, |
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you'll get smoked, B-cuz yo' in the same boat tryin' |
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to surround yourself with white |
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folks in your video, |
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like Paula Abdul she's a silly ho. |
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Although U only might be one-percent black troop, |
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they still consider you a mook. |
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But she say's she ain't black, so how da'FUCK she figga?. |
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Yo bitch, u still a nigga. |
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Government broke in my house with they guns |
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so they busin' and breakin' cos' they paid to no one |
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Now they have a murder rap and they makin no stros |
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so I'm facin' incarceration in the police station, |
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There wasn't a bitch or a wicked assassin |
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since they comment homicide |
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offering to tend protection |
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resist conviction |
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cos the shot from da'honest white mon |
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now to hear some muthafuckin run. |
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True niggas retaliate, they don't run. |
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I say we niggas 'cos they treat us like scum. |
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So get a nose job like Michael Jackson |
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Go to a white school, and change your accent. |
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U STILL A NIGGA, so how da'fuck U figga |
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since U moved out da'neighborhood, |
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and datin' a peckerwood, |
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that you're different from the rest of the clan. |
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Tryin' to get a job, and count how many doors slam. |
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Goddamn, I'm on a row. |
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I can't forget about my bald head hoes |
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To some, it's a fashion, |
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to wear weave and pony tails, |
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but the other hoes wanna be white girls. |
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Whodini said "Be Yourself, Trooper," |
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U don't see white folks tryin' to act BLACK do ya. |
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So why U laughin' at the brotha in dreads, |
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u neet to get the chemicals out yo'own motherfuckin' heads! |
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No matter how U aim and change your game |
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and rearrange your frame, U STILL A NIGGA!!! |
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