30

(альбом: The Nigga In Me Is Me - 2019)

My wall
My wall is a garden of dark marks
Interwoven strokes rapturously posted up
Not ruins, but still sutured to a corrupt culture awaiting chances at its deconstruction
My whole family stillborn in the cut
Living, working, dying as your laborers yet labeled "non-essential" by you fucks

Your wall's imported
Pretty sure you used the word "glorious"
But you can't both use and ignore us
Or fuck and pretend to adore us
What type of love is only true in its desire to stay hateful?
What type of world did you think you birthed where you thought I would be grateful?
You really thought I would be grateful?
You thought!
You thought!
You thought!
You thought!

I overanalyzed the size of the affect
Of life as a mark and an object of disrespect
Remade in H.I.S. image, redacted, refitted for symmetry
But over the border my future's free of that conspiracy

Wishing to keep your threats well-kept as your weaponized debt is your wall, my nigga
My wall's the earth and more than the dirt you tried to sweep up under the rug, my nigga
You gentrified a whole continent with a whip on some hand-over-fist shit, nigga
Tell me, am I still the embodiment of the evil that your daddy did live, nigga?

Your wall is imported
I'm pretty sure you used the word "glorious"
But you can't both use and ignore us
Or fuck and pretend to adore us
What love is only true in its desire to stay hateful?
What type of world did you think you birthed where you thought I'd be grateful?
You really thought I'd be grateful?
You thought, you thought!
You cannot have my joy!
You thought, you thought!