What a joke we are, we put  jokes in power
That make America less great with each passing hour.
Im tryin not to lose it, keep it real amidst the bullshit
Doin’ my best not to contribute to it, just shuck and jive my way through it. Live and let live, day to day

But sometimes yall come on so strong, like were all wrong, like only you all know
Exactly where to go, precisely when to do it, do not think, you might just screw it..up!
Dont let it get you down when the facts just arent round, in numbers that might soothe you’
We’re fast trackin brand new facts to comfort and use, you know we’re in your corner, and in your bedroom and your bar.I want a job, I want respect instead of hand-outs. But to sweep a floor, I must fill this jar and a 22-page form out, and along with my GPA,
They want my preferred  method, what would be my favorite way,
To make myself the boss honcho of these US of A’s?
I think I would chose force, of the choices violence is worse
But i would use one, both, or the other
The country is in need of my druthers
A change in direction is needed my brothers
A nation devoted to the helping of others
In foreign lands, and down the street
When waters rise, when mountains fall
When earthquakes topple buildings tall, small, and inbetween
Or madmen fight for God or Queen
And victory has lost its sheen
And hate become the driving force
Maybe we can change that course,

Take the wheel, the artful deal with  Belial must be broken, each crime but a token for the ones left unspoken, each one a smokin gun that connects the dots to the have-gots who have lots, but have  naught for the have nots, the never had nothins,  but a glimmer of hope, dulled by dope, or working two jobs and barely coping with a life unseen ‘cept by you and me, the police, coroners and EMT’s.

We gotta take the cities back, at least we gotta try, give the kids a reason to live instead of getting high. The only rides out of the ghetto now are hearses and police vans, that splash water on your mama on your way to meet the Man, who judges you the best that he possibly can, but he will never understand how his system creates a type of man like no other, who called five different men his father before he was even ten, then he no longer bothered. His Mama sees him now and again, with thugs on the corner gathered. Lost souls, seeking treats from their Daddy, the street. He offers no work, no haven, no freedom.

However, he’s there, going somewhere, yet never will he leave them.

Thats the standard we have to beat? How hard can it be to beat the Street?

Work that street, fill it full of marching feet, belonging to teachers, doctors, and good policemen, who live on the block and know who they’re meeting as they walk their beat.

Look at the players on one knee, bringing attention to these streets. We get it Homes, take a bow, but kneeling wont help anyhow, so rise up now, all the pleading wont stop the cops from their shooting of young men seen as looting and causing unrest, blacks shopping in stores are seen as a menace. And the cops want to go home, too!

There aren’t any easy answers, but we have to try. Doing nothing is the biggest crime, we cant let our cities die, peace out

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