Whatta Man
2 x 11 x 20
I’mma be honest with ya
Most men of color talk big and bad
Cuz they fear the white man
They build their muscles thick and heavy
Wear vines shiny and bright
buy big ol’ houses
Buss-down Rollie’s
I mean the finest of delights
They do all this
To make a point
Not to their own selves
But to old Mr. white
You see that fear dug in deep
So so so deep
That now you define yourself
by everything He seeks
You were told to break down them doors
To work twice as hard and get in them places
Sit at those tables
And smile in they faces
But now that you in
Bought hook, line, and sinker
Sold your body and soul
Now you get to thinkin’
No matter how much money
Nor how much shine
To them you still a “shine”
And that’s enough to draw the line
Now you look behind
In your wake
Dead bodies
Pain and hate
Cuz you did what they do
And destroyed to be great
I wonder when you’ll see
Ol’ Macon Dead
I wonder when I’ll see?
You’ve never left the plantation
Only become an overseer to the beast.
Savaging and Ravaging
That pain from centuries
Seeps in deep
Only way out is healing what’s inside me
What we need
Is not white men
In shades of black, brown, yellow, and red
Bruh… Ol’ Macon dead!
What we need are those who have visions and strength
To call out the rage
To crawl out the cage
And say no more today!
Don’t need that big ol’ house
Don’t need them shoes, cars
None of that expensive trash
You need your people
And your people need you
Healing, Building, Feeling
Now that
That
is a man.