The chains on my back I carry
Welcome to America
Its heavy

*****, lifted  to the sky
My napes blow in the wind.
I wear it proud  it’s my skin.
Smooth it shines.

Paint the runway red.
Make me out to be the bad guy.
A I a N* ,am I dead.
They hate me no.. they hate my skin.
They hate my culture they hate that I win.
They hung us till
We see  the rising sun
Emmett till could of been my son.

I’ll bend a knee and pray to god.
I’ll never bear fruit
That the ***** of his father
Combust before he bust.

Trevon was just a boy.
Skittles in pocket what a joy.
Bam an Bam an Bam
He's dead

Got off

Welcome to America