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where’s the worst place a black child can live? — white comfort.
my niggas are drenched from head to toe in red. colors matter. my moms face is overwhelmed in blue. colors still matter. traumatized criminalized minds on green. colors will matter.
Strip me of my pride, all the lies been synthesize, been over looked, i been tooked, repromised of my pride. Done in the dark comes to light and a thousand black women march in pain, hoping not to go in vein,