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My Niggaz
"My niggers". Says the master of
demeaning terminology,
psychologically implementing the
torture of his implements, with
evidence ranging from delusional
to non existent, that the
persistence of his assault, bought
him the rights to women and men,
Again, from his core he shouts the phrase,
which lays the self proclaimed ranking
of the slaves, The brave dictator,
a title he will prove and kill to keep,
but cheap is his manhood
and words that he speaks,
Think about it and fast forward to the present,
where the presence of a friend is acknowledged
in modern ways, but modern days, we call it slang,
drop the "er" to add an a, then say, my nigga
to another brother, when other words would suffice
to express the simple bond, but fond, we have become
to staying linked to past expressions, with obsession,
for the word fought hard to abolish, but polish it
we have done, redefined for acknowledgment,
yet I ask for the past, why would descendants polish sh*t?
Times change, we all claim,
how the word has no power,
yet we cower by way of rage
when it falls from Caucasian voices,
this choice is the proof that hearts hold true,
we do the dance our ancestors did,
but with reverse prejudice,
a characteristic of a kid, they hid,
their sorrow for tomorrows plan,
to understand this thought is to
celebrate a race, yet we chase
the hatred of a past generation,
with elation we toss the word
amongst ourselves, on shelves,
it belongs with our history,
the mystery on the other hand is solved,
a mind evolved and race respected,
reasons for bloodshed and riots, so quiet I
s pride of their suffered violence,
and out of deserved gratitude,
"my niggaz" have died in silence.
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