Let me tell y’all something:
The white man don’t care about our suffering.
The privilege is too bright to see us.

The white man don’t care about us.
The white man wants to see us get shot,
The white man wants to see us wither and perish.

But who built America on their backs,
Bare handed, and
Whipped into submission?

We did.

We will take back America.
We will take back our streets,
Paved with the blood and tears of our people.
This is our America.

Not whitewashed and stained red with racism.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “Stop! Don’t shoot!”
You shoot anyways.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “I can’t breathe.“
You continue to suffocate us.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “Help.”
You continue to let us suffer.

This is your America.
Where the president calls us thugs,
And threatens to shoot us and our freedom.

This is not my America.

This is your America.
Where you shoot us for having cell phones.
Where you terrorize our sons and daughters.
Where you **** us for being black.

Who gonna protect us?
Not cops drunk on their own power and superiority.
Not the president blinded by racism.
Not our white “allies” who stand by and watch us burn.

But if we burn,
You burn with us.

If you **** us,
You die with us.

We tried peace,
We tried awareness,
But we always end up with violence.

We’re scared,
But who can blame us?

You’re killing us with your American Dream,
You’re murdering us with your American Dream,
You’re suffocating us with your American Dream.

This is your America—
Not mine.

We will take back America.
We will take back our freedom
Or we will die trying.
And that is the American Dream.

i'm white, my skin is just pale enough that if you squint just right you can't even see the brown lying underneath.
i'm white, and i feel my privilege like a vice around my wrists, holding me hostage in my fantasy that i just wasn't made for this activist ****.
but i'm not like those white oppressors, because i don't believe as they do; silence is a form of oppression, so guess what that makes you?
i am guilty of closing my eyes so often i may as well be blind, and holy ******* **** THIS HAS HAPPENED TOO MANY TIMES!
we all know at this point that justice isn't being served, and you've surely heard the terms, reactionary solidarity it means we as the privileged only care when the oppressed scream so loud we hear them across the seas, see their smoke signals above the trees, when mothers and sisters on crying on their knees

Flash bang grenades
rubber bullets
Riot guns with metal pellets

the tear gas isn't necessary to make anyone cry

I have died a million times
Master's whip
Has left my back a million lines
Each body left broken
Connections lost
Cut a million vines
Each body left breathless
"I can't breathe" the words screamed a billion times

Dylan’s roof covers your house supposedly,
But you can’t go through the front door,
you don’t even have a key.

You see, Dylan’s roof covers your head
ever so reluctantly
But Dylan won’t kick you out,
you were brought here to work for free.

Dylan doesn’t like you
or anyone with your complexion
But Dylan won’t admit it,
he’d rather ‘serve and protect’ his brethren.
By serve and protect I mean swerve and reject.
Any responsibility for a bullet in your chest.

You see, Dylan’s roof doesn’t just cover 52 states
It covers millions of your reflection
that share melanated traits.

The windows under Dylan’s roof give you a glimpse of your potential.
Freedom and happiness.
You trace the future with a stencil.

After some time,
Dylan’s roof will start to dissipate.
The rains of your liberation
will begin to precipitate.

The seeds that were planted
by the ones gone before us,
will start to germinate
in the fields that once tore us

Your ***** finally in the discussion of being an accent to beauty but who gets the cents from all that call to action
It’s not a sister who car is dashing
I’m not bashing but just like Sebastian
Constant comic relief without any green leaf, so why isn’t Franklin the one saying “Good grief”?

The same way they didn’t see robbery when they thought to elect Vivian over Celie, constantly a side note though  our words stay in the quote forever the black knight stuck at the mot, yet I can’t blame a invisible hand, cause it’s my own brothers keeper who would sell my own hand for a couple of bands, it’s framed as integration more like selected representation, still light versus dark creates a fraction that leads to more distraction influenced by our own reactions, quick to cop Italian, German, London and French designers even though they were the main colonizers but were so “woke” it’s all ok if rappers are the buyers so who’s the real lier?

Black business is labeled with asterisks cause we shop like we’re at risk, price tags look different when written by a black wrist, so ingrained that we continue to persist with a system that makes me feel we stuck in the mist, it should be king novel cowritten by Willie Lynch, real or not his words are the tapestry that still affect our reality, but to you another young black casualty,  

Black Lives Matter was removed from main stream chatter like a infection in Americas bladder, me too seems burked not the whole collection just the women in colored section, from trafficking, continued police murders that are baffling, cultural appropriation that reigns supreme so put on your little black dress with your favorite song, From cover to conclusion racial inclusion is just a westworld delusion