You call him KING,
You crown him
You call him NIGGA,
You down him
You call him NOTHING,
You clown him

I know,
I’m around them

Found them to be more susceptible to success at the mere suggestion of possibility
Nothing to do with an unwillingness to comply,
but ability

They don’t have an opportunity to try
Just pressure to produce
and if you are going to find a problem with him either way,
He figures, whats the use?

This poem is for those of us being lied to
For those whose intentions got lost in the intermission of life,
I know you tried to
but before you could ascend,
You were accosted or assumed to
And as soon as you do,
They bury you
without a funeral,
I’ve got proof
and the scars too
speaking of speaking into existence,
Stop saying you got bars fool
They got bars too!
Daddy say we dun had too many signs,
He’s right, I’ve heard “Hell Yea” in too many rhymes,
that’s the law of attraction
Repeat this 20 times…,
Loud too…

Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music
Trap music

It’s that music, and music like it
that leads us wrong,
We were once a product made possible by freedom songs
unfinished business,
they beat us
then feed us wrong
got us in the paint, back to the basket
leading us on
we need to be gone
but instead we’re asking the big bad wolf
to lead us home…

You call him KING,
You crown him
You call him NIGGA,
You down him
You call him NOTHING,
You clown him

I know,
I’m around them

Truth is that we got egg on our face
ran at the first sign of smoke
and yelled fire
But it was arson
scrambled his story,
you can tell he’s lying
but we launched into full scale attack
and jumped on faulty bandwagons
driven by media
making insignificant issues out of locs,
and pants saggin
ass backwards
but demand action,
expedient
Oh, but that’s the scam,
catch it…

They pass out strikes
like chalkboards in math class
then tell him he don’t count
until he got cash
but he can’t count
so he got mad
and he can’t count on the system,
they got Dad
Momma counted on him
until it got bad
then she just blamed him
cause he count stash
everybody else counted him out
so he bout mad
and all he ever wanted to do was count,
matter of fact

You call him KING,
You crown him
You call him NIGGA,
You down him
You call him NOTHING,
You clown him

I know,
I’m around them

No sense in blaming Mr. White
when we complain about Mr. Right
steady playing Mr. Nice
putting it off until tomorrow
because we don’t feel like explaining this, tonight

And change gon’ come
been anthem since our ancestors
change gon’ came and went
we just a chantin’…

(Sing with me)
Fuck bitches
Get money
Thug life
Who want it
Pop that
Shake dat
Take that
Take that
Take that
Take that…

Like you’re supposed to
because of what you’re exposed to
because you were told to
not because you chose to

I told you,

You call him KING,
You crown him
You call him MIGGA,
You down him
You call him NOTHING,
You clown him

I know,
I’m around them.

-see

©2014 Cornelious “See” Flowers
@seethepoet