I've always been my people and proud.
Bust out the womb wit’ my fist in the clouds.
Aint no beauty like black just ask the slave master,
but when I'm in the hood I'm like, "what happened?"

Chi town, 79th street, my people roll up lookin’ just
like me. Face same black, brim same flat.
Fist to my jaw rolled off with my cash.
Young black, young blood, young me,
Aye, aint you heard we was Kings and Queens?
Young black, young blood, young me,
turns out my people been thieves and fiends.

Check the facts young African lover
greedy as the Europeans were our African brothers.
Putting shackles on each other for some exotic treasure.
My people sold my people to the hands of another.
And I wonder, aint no telling, were the slaves more
sore at their buyers or their sellers. Huh.
But it is what it is, wouldn't make a difference
if I had another skin.
Nope, that's way of our race, everybody been slaves
to a similar face.
Yep, Black on Black, White on White
If my people not my people then what people is mine?

Revelation is the clue, people of every nation,
people of every hue. Crowd full of Cains
forgiven and grateful, and every people praise
the only God who is true.

Hallelu, my people made new,
Forgave the hate any people gave to ‘em.
Hallelu, my people made new,
believe in the Christ and my people is you.
My my, my people is you, my my, my people is you.


from The Man Without A Name, released February 16, 2013



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Micah Bournes Long Beach, California

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