(TRANSPARENTLY)
THE MUSIC IS A DEDICATION...
When I came stolen and bruised across the Atlantic sea... The true dead one where my ancestors bones have become sand that washes up on an Amerikkkan beach.
You were there for me.
Such a tragic time where the dehumanization began.
They seeking to make me weak in your eyes... To take my strength away.
Made me slave, and the very weather cried, for these were tragic times.
We but scribbles on a paper, animal.
You held me in the night.
I so lost in you that even though they continued to kill me in various ways we survived.
Here against a city backdrop you are the vision that makes a man remember these things... He reflective.
The entirety of this thing on his mind.
As he looks in your eyes and upon your form and sighs cause you are all these things to him when he faces the savage nature of this thing.
He trying to figure out how to convert niggas to kings.
Are you still there for me?
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
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