Does the pigment of my skin define me?
Does it make me less than them?
‘Cause the prejudice love to remind me
I’m a rock and not a gem.

Am I enough ‘cause I speak well?
Or do I have to look it too?
‘Cause God forbid I’m out in public
Wearing red or blue.

Should I turn down my music?
Maybe switch to classic rock?
‘Cause if I don’t,
They’ll maybe think I’m carrying a glock.

But what they don’t know is:
This rock’s the start of a crystal,
And my fully loaded loving heart
Is my only form of pistol.

So I’ll bump my Hip-Hop,
And I’ll rock whatever colors I please,
‘Cause once they get a piece of me,
They’ll learn kindness comes with ease.