People always crying out
Some with the utmost pride
We in the field
You in the house
What field are you in?!
You don’t have a professional field.
You don’t possess no working field.
There are no working clothes
All we can see is your ***** laundry
Where can you hide that?
All the world can see and mock
***** laundry left too long only become legal suits.
The type the government brings against you.
That have you dressed up in court proceedings.
And wishing you had pride in being in the right field
Before it was too late.

There is no education there
In order for there to be a field
It has to be safe for seeds
But our seed are not in fields.
They in jails
They on probation
A place where seeds were not meant to be
A place where seeds cannot grow
A place where seeds die from lack of care.
And the last time I checked
Being part of a system
Is not part of a field.
When all we have to look forward to are gates.
You don’t even work in a field
You mistake bitterness for empowerment.

And you have the audacity to be mad I’m in a house.
So yes I’m in a house.
A house I bought with my money, my toil, my sacrifice.
A house I got because I went to schoolhouses all my life.
A house I acquired because I went to church houses and learned to worship.
A house that I could make a garden in
A paradise garden for my seed and kin.
That old house-field dichotomy
Ended when we was supposed to be free.
You say people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
I say people who don’t have a field shouldn’t throw shade.