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Apparently I'm second generation black Caribbean |
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And half white Scottish whatever that means |
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See lately I feel confused with the boxes, |
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Cos to me all they do is breed conflict, |
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It not that I've lost touch with the reality |
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Of racism, sexism and nationality, |
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Just to me it all seems like insanity, |
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Why must I rob you of your humanity |
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To feel good about mine, |
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It's all about crime, |
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Dehumanizing, is how I justify it, |
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So I must keep on lying about the history of Africa, |
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So I can live with the massacres and repeat my mantra, |
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Muslim and terrorist so I can sleep at night, |
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As bombs take flight, |
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Eyes open wide but I'm blind to the sight |
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Too busy chasing the perfect life, |
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And the working class keep them uneducated, |
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Truly educated men could never be racist, |
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To educate is to draw out what is within |
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Are we not all the same under the skin, |
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I got a heart like yours that pumps blood and oxygen |
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And insecurities are a whole lot of them, |
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I'm scared like you deep down, |
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I really do care that the world is not fair like you, |
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But I don't even believe my own prayers like you, |
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Chasing career going nowhere like you, |
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Lost in a fog of my own insecurities |
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I hold myself up as an image of purity, |
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And I judge everybody else |
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By the color of their skin or the size of their wealth, |
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But it's not good for my health |
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As the only one I ever really judge is myself, |
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The oppressor must suffer like the oppressed, |
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Though I pretend I'm in control of this mess, |
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By inflating my ego, puffing my chest |
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I see my weakness and need to show strength, |
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For what we think strong is |
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Cos if were honest, true strength is the strength to be honest, |
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And if I'm honest, I am just tired if I'm honest I am just tired, |
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Tired of everyday filling up my car |
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And knowing that I'm paying for the bombs in Iraq, |
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Tired of pretending like it don't hurt my heart, |
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Of wanting change but not knowing where to start, |
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Tired of listening to all the conditioning, |
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And all the forms that they got me filling in, |
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Next time you see what is a thug and despise him, |
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Please know I was just like him, |
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Cos I was like eight the first time I saw crack, |
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Same time I first smoked weed chocking on blowbacks, |
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First time I saw knifes penetrate flesh |
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It was meat cleavers to the back of the head, |
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As I grew and teenage years passed |
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Many more knifes pierced and the shots blast |
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And I ain't saying I had the worst upbringing, |
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But there's a million young men just like me in prison, |
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We complain about racism and elevate clowns, |
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With their trousers down, swinging their dicks round, |
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Maybe that is not quite literal |
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But everything they do is just as stereotypical, |
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To my real fans I feel your pain |
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And I get the messages but don't complain |
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That we ain't got more fame for paying our part, |
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They can keep the charts all I want is your hearts, |
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They can keep the charts all I want is your hearts, |
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They can keep the charts all I want is your hearts, |
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Call it black radio don't make laugh, |
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So is black music all about tits and arse, |
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You don't represent nothing, you're just pretending, |
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When was the last time you ever played Hendrix |
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Or Miles Davis or John Coltrane, |
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Or Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday, |
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We can call it urban to me that's cool, |
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If urban means street that means jazz to |
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And rock for that matter, Go ask Mick Jagger |
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Or Jimmy Page what they were listening to, the blues, |
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Not discrediting love Zeppelin too |
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Just giving credit where credit is due, |
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That blood socked word rappers still use |
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All it really shows is that we still self abuse, |
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That was the word that was used to kill, |
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Kelso Cochrane and Emmett Till, |
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That was the word that the conscience eased |
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And made people pleased to hung you from trees, |
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That was the word that let there whips crack, |
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No matter what you say you can't take it back, |
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And I can say they're black so I feel their pain easier, |
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But 1915 look at Armenia, |
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It's the whole world is human stupidity |
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Though we choke ourselves to death quite literally, |
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And I can talk with my comfortable mouth, |
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With my comfortable cloths in my comfortable house, |
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The tables will turn, We can but stall them, |
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Every empire on this earth has fallen, |
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So unless we can find another way, |
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Maybe not today but it will come one-day, |
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It may sound like I'm bitter, |
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But in-fact truth be told I am quite the opposite, |
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I wake everyday and am overwhelmed |
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Just to be alive and be like no one else, |
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And the sheer weight of the thought of space |
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Is enough to keep my little ego in place, |
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All that we chase and try to replace |
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All along it was right in our face, |
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The only way we can ever change anything |
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Is to look in the mirror and to find no enemy, |
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The only way we can ever change anything, |
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Look in the mirror and to find no enemy |
