Hook:
I look up to Malcolm X, but I know what it cost him,
Speaking to the future while they plotting how to cross him.
Every time I step, I feel the weight on my neck—
They made him Malcolm X… I might be Malcolm next.
Truth in my text, that’s a permanent flex,
They surveil every move, tryna label me a threat.
History repeats when the message connects—
They made him Malcolm X… I might be Malcolm next.
⸻
Intro:
Yeah… I might be Malcolm next,
Truth on my breath like a Kevlar vest,
Guarding my chest from the “serve and protect,”
If I stand for respect, I accept what’s next.
’Cause to die for the people is a life well spent,
If a martyr’s the cost, that’s a righteous expense.
From the pulpit to pavement, I’m wired with intent—
If the system’s offended, that’s the evidence.
⸻
Verse 1:
They can try to assassinate my character, say it’s a threat to America,
Narratives crafted in caricature, labeling radicals terrorists.
Double standards embedded in banners that wave over arrogance,
“Land of the free” with conditions and clauses in paragraphs.
Freedom impeached unless you’re the President—
Then it’s selective precedence, delicate rhetoric.
You ain’t a dog, you a bitch rolling in excrement.
Barking oppression, that’s a learned behavior with no benefit.
They say I’m paranoid—I say I’m just aware,
Heavy is head that inherits the glare.
Crown on the king, but the blade’s in the air—
Guillotine gleam like “You dare?” Robespierre.
“We the People”—who that include?
If it ain’t equal, it’s see-through.
Silence the sequel to truth with a needle,
Then call it “peaceful” on evening news.
(Hook)
I look up to Malcolm X, but I know what it cost him,
Speaking to the future while they plotting how to cross him.
Every time I step, I feel the weight on my chest—
They made him Malcolm X… I might be Malcolm next.
Verse 2:
Tap on the line.
Watch on the feed.
File on the name.
Label the creed.
Prophets get clipped when the profits recede.
We live on “stolen land”, till the Natives want to collect the fee.
Pedophiles get off Scot free; unless you get hanged behind the scenes.
Ironically in a place where no one can hear you scream!
Why is so hard to help those in need?
Why do the innocent die and bleed?
Tokenism made public until the next fad up and breeds.
Words without action; with a population that can barely read.
Make America Great again?
———
How about make America a land without Hypocrisy!
Hook)
I look up to Malcolm X, but I know what it cost him,
Speaking to the future while they plotting how to cross him.
Every time I step, I feel the weight on my chest—
They made him Malcolm X… I might be Malcolm next.
Outro:
I ain’t saying I’m him, I’m saying I understand,
When you carry that fire, you don’t just carry a brand.
You carry every ancestor that was stripped of a name,
Every dream deferred, every unlit flame.
For the ones in the cell with the book in their hand,
For the daughter that believe she can lead a whole land.
Know I did it for the misunderstood.
If tomorrow ain’t promised and today is a test,
Then I’m walking like Malcolm…
…ready to be Malcolm next.