By: Cedric McClester

How are we supposed to act?
When we’re ticketed because we’re black?
See we are profiled, as a matter of fact
And it seems like the deck is stacked
Cards are coming from the bottom
Like the higher ups have taught ‘em
Winter summer spring and autumn
To fill their quotas, we know they got ‘em

They’ll deny it, if we ask
But they’ve been put up to that task
Their motivation is hard to mask
I’m just trying to put them on blast
It’s a ***** low down shame
That we’re not all treated the same
It’s a vicious racist game
But they don’t want to shoulder blame

Could it be because we’re strangers?
We’re exposed to all sorts of dangers
Whenever we have unpleasant exchanges
They tend to treat us like they’re Texas Rangers
No matter why we’re stopped they’ll insist
We put our hands up and not resist
And if we do we’ll be remiss
We’ll have a better reason to be ******

See if we’re stopped in our cars
We could lose a life, namely ours
Which would contribute to our psychic scars
Long before we see prison bars
And what’s the crime we’re guilty of
While being black which rates above
All kinds of charges derived thereof
It seems our color gets us no love





Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.