Dear Hip Hop…

Who Willie Lynched your mentality?
Who put you under a spell?
Why you let them teleport you back to slavery?
They could have at least made it look good
didn’t have to hang you on the block
in your own hood
from your own trees
could have bridged the gap
between the souls you “sold” for rap
could have at least duct taped pieces of the truth
so you didn’t look like the signs of the times
didn’t have to trade your crown
for nursery rhymes
spill your blood on the ground
like wasted time
look how intoxicated you are
don’t know the difference between what truth and being real is
Is we being real?
There’s a reason that last line ain’t grammatically correct
gotta spit truth a lot truthful than that
since when did speaking the Kings English
ever define being black?
since when did we become something called Black?
what is that?
if you gonna spit truth
you gotta come much harder than that
and much deeper than black
you see even your conscious rappers
ain’t wrapped tight enough
can’t baptize deception in muddy waters and call it clean
can’t metaphysical the spiritual
and call it revolutionizing the struggle
can’t call it consciousness if you still sleeping
but rebellion the only thing around here get played
and you the only people around here being played
why I still hear rappers remixing they own graves?
who put yall under a spell?
don’t know why prison statistics don’t start with the prisons
outside of jails
but then again
I guess we can’t all spit truth
the records will never sell