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If you think I am mad
Then you are wrong
I am indifferent to how my ancestors were done
Raped, beat, slaved and hung
Yet you say we still singing yesterdays song
Babies scorched in cotton fields
Farming and harvesting for someone else's yield
Nationally known as Willie Lynch
I'm dropping facts I'm not giving hints
This is about what they did
Not what they didn't
We are the true decendants
They stole our very remembrance
Once they took off the chains
They left psychological scars and stains
Yet they got no repirations
Can you equate to their pain
Let alone this conversation
Not meant to offend
Its about ancestry dividends
Every nation had its hand in America's 
Melting pot
When Christ returns things will get hottt
No more identity theft
They painted his face 
And tried to hide what was left
War=America 
Prisoners of war = 12 tribes of Israel
We got a bad deal
Don't get upset I'm just keeping it real
They took the natives land
Then offered a helping hand
Put them on reservations
Called it social meditation
They took ships to reach the 12 tribes
They came with ruffles, bullets and bribes
Africans and Arabs sold them out 
For spices, wine and guns
Nothing is new under the sun
This is not just another poem
So if you think I am mad
Then you are wrong
I am indifferent to
 how my ancestors were done


07/13/2018

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