I think the king left you a message, Ole Miss
Stop and learn to let go.
Before you squatted over his drum major baton
And let “the n word” strut across living rooms.
Stop and learn to let go?
I learned in textbooks about when
The ****** strutted across the living room
You made him fetch more ice to fill the lemonade lifestyle.
I learned in textbooks about when
You claimed to hate my sable hue.
My people still spray lemonade flavored perfume on this
Lifestyle I run now. Something backwards remains:
The claim to hate my sable hue.
Though now you wear it for fun
The lifestyle I run somehow remains backwards
The glorified get picked from trees.
And now they wear it for fun:
The color of the dirt from which the lemons burst
The glorified get picked from trees
And when life gives you those lemons, you make lemonade.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
I think the king left you a message, Ole Miss
Stop and learn to let go.
Before you squatted over his drum major baton
And let “the n word” strut across living rooms.
Stop and learn to let go?
I learned in textbooks about when
The ****** strutted across the living room
You made him fetch more ice to fill the lemonade lifestyle.
I learned in textbooks about when
You claimed to hate my sable hue.
My people still spray lemonade flavored perfume on this
Lifestyle I run now. Something backwards remains:
The claim to hate my sable hue.
Though now you wear it for fun
The lifestyle I run somehow remains backwards
The glorified get picked from trees.
And now they wear it for fun:
The color of the dirt from which the lemons burst
The glorified get picked from trees
And when life gives you those lemons, you make lemonade.
Request permission to use this poem