I am the modern black man
With marijuana, a gun or a book in hand

My music is hip-hop/rap
Why?
Well, it’s a slap in the face
Shakes up the place
Not afraid to be original and say
Everything I’m thinking

My generation is ambiguous
A mixture of variety
Our numerous struggles with society
Are quite enticing; see,

We are
Scholars and shottas
Racist and Rastas
Gangsters and great fathers

I don’t quite understand it
But we’ve advanced further
Yet, Keep in mind that we must keep working

My home is America
But Africa is my true native land
Wait…
How is this home if we were brought here by the white man?

But it’s funny, right?
Brothaz die for their block
Trying to gain street cred
-Ability in the classroom,
more credits and greater credentials are what I strive for
anyways, I guess Hampton will always be my home.

I am not responsible for the burden of my entire generation
Yet, I do want to see us make it
Which isn’t fair;
We are trying to compete in this race full of racists,
Based off of green faces
This world needs a change and I have come to perform a facelift
The moral of my tales goes to show
That when we unite, we shall grow
Even stronger
Glow even brighter
Maybe not in the physical, but I’m still a fighter.