No Justice. No Peace.
We're killed for jaywalking,
But are expected to remain at ease.

We're seen as looters.
When terrorists are heroes.
And never unjust shooters.

They "protect and serve."
They protect each other.
Whether its inhumane doesn't matter.
Then they serve morgues...
with young black bodies on shiny silver platters.

They don't want to hear us.
So we're told to remain peaceful because it's easier to ignore a sound that isn't being made.

And if we remain quiet the passion for wrong doings will begin to fade.

Black people are ashamed of each other for rioting in their own community. But it doesn't belong to us.  So feel free to burn down gas stations and break the windows out of a Toys"R"Us.

We'll be executed in suits. We'll be executed in sweats. We'll be executed when we're armed and We'll be executed when we pose no threat.

So scream if you have to.
Let it all out.
Fight fire with fire.
It will grow, and eventually someone will put it out.

Because remaining peaceful has gotten us nowhere.

When we're peaceful they don't care. They torment us. And we're mocked. And are attacked with tear gas while rubber and wooden bullets are being shot.

So don't shoot. But when you need to. Shoot back.
I want us to be able to raise children who won't be murdered for being big while black.

And it isn't in the U.S.A.
Where Unjust Shootings are Admissible.
And Uniformed Shooters are Admired.

So fight back. Even though we're already so tired.

Love is like a gorgeous rose
with time and care beauty grows

A beautiful aroma fills the air
from all the love and all the care
vibrant colors warm the eyes
rose flourishing, reach for the sky

There are times when the rose won't bloom
That doesn't mean I'm through with you
Although it appears a barren bush
This love just needs a little push

Though the thorns may cause a heart to bleed
Through the pain you soon will see
All these pains can be healed
Just as long as you don't yield

Learn from each moment
Forever enjoy it
The rose is just a metaphor of
An ever growing love

How much more must we repeat this,
The giving out and giving in.
The constant battle that rages on -
The struggle between women and men.

It's been here from the beginning.
It'll be here 'til the end.
Both sides in this bitter fight,
'Til it is that one side wins.

Taught that they are different
Since childhood's early hour.
When the boy is given a ball
And the girl is donned with a flower.

But the flowers, they have thorns.
And the ***** all bounce away.
With neither, they're long satisfied
With the gifts that were gave.

Instead, they channel their desires
To finding each other, and finding love.
'Til Death Do We Part,
Or until we've had enough.