I’m tired of opening my eyes to the same bricks
I’m tired of different lies from the same lips
I’m tired of living a life full of anguish.
Breathing in a world where no one speaks my language.

Common sense ain’t so common. They ain’t found enough.
I guess that this is what the old heads been talkin’ ‘bout
How like cattle, they want my generation rounded up
Blinded and metaphorically sent to a slaughterhouse.

But we ain’t getting slaughtered by them. It’s you or I
Willie Lynch got us trippin’ over different colors
Drugs and guns to kill ourselves, dawg, it’s suicide.
And without a noose around our necks, man, we kill each other.

I feel like this really ain’t the land of the free
And the Constitution hasn’t been checked for written typos
‘Cause I’m in here starting to understand and think
About how I became the victim of a vicious cycle.


Striked at Birth

It was different, when I was
brought to this life.
I got my first strike
when I wasn’t born white.
Second strike came
when I thought it was a game.
Committing these crimes, and
to jail I came.
Third strike approached
for all the time that I was set.
All these strikes came down
like a domino effect.
I’m not wanted to succeed
only wanted to fail,
due to the strikes on me
and not being a white male.
Life is harder for me,
because I’m a different color.
On my birth certificate it’s
not marked white, it’s other.
I have to try hard to
pass these strikes and tribulations.
These are the problems a biracial
man is facing.
You frown at me while
I smile upon you
because I don’t hate.
Only to succeed is a biracial man’s fate.

Where Are You From

You call me a scoot ‘cause I’m from East and you’re from the hill
We’re both Americans, why can’t we chill?
No need to shoot or fight, let’s make a deal.
If he’s from the Northside, that don’t mean it’s an Arab who likes to kill.
We’re all human and share the same talents,
Legs that run and voices that sing
Yeah I got busted Nikes and you got a golden ring
I have money, flashy is not my thing
So let’s not divide
Who cares if I’m East and you’re Southside?
No need to throw it around
Ask you if you’re G and who put you down
All that is discrimination
You bring guns and make elimination
There should be peace and limitation
No need to throw gas on the fire
And water for the seed
So violence because of the hoods is what we don’t need
’Cause now we’re all sitting here waiting on a plea.