First off my people’s magic
And best believe that I am real
Be careful what they’re feeding you
We know fire don’t melt steel
We gotta let the people know
Exactly what you saying though
I’m saying that the world is hiding shit my people praying for.
Plus one like they at the club
But they praying five just to stay alive
I got homeboys who still on the streets
And they slanging pies just to get by
Got a felony on they’re fucking name
So they can’t go get a good job
I give my life for all the single moms
raising kids alone, because they’re man’s gone.
Fresh as the pines in the woods that I’m smelling and
Eating up the sun rays, thanks to my melanin
Chant a Psalm a day, Overstand I was telling them
Back up in the day, cooking crack, I was selling it.
Devils had me thinking that this money is really heaven sent
Z holding my gat, I’m tryna stash away the evidence
Shot out to my Mexicans , My daddy’s hommie’s Tez and them
Taught me buy it soft and cook it hard up in the residence.
The oppressors plan
To rule the blackest of men
As we swim through the water
As we crawl through the sand
Secondly my people Warriors, architects, scientists, and explores
Philosophers, Doctors and Lawyers, and D-boys for the drugs the feds imported.
Look that That body cam video ain’t saving you
He gets a paid vacation to make a grave for you
Land of the incarcerated, home of the favorite few,
Nation of consumption as long as it aint saving you.
And they wanna brother locked up, in a gang want a brother shot up,
It ain’t a game in the O on Hamilton, or on Ames catch a nigga gambling
Act my age I’m a Black Panther , serving breakfast was my answer,
What I said to a private dancer, told the racists cops they the cancer,
Wanna sue me like 2 Pac ,bloodclot all me niggas shoot back,
and we trill about our fucking queens boy,
you better not touch a queen boy,
thats a wife mother daughter sista auntie you getting destroyed.
I told the cracker we on peace boy,
but Martin ain’t on these streets boy,
And Malcolm ain’t on these streets boy,
A fuck boy threw the wrong peace boy,
get the fuck up out my face before I leave you stiff and straight like a fucking crease boy.
I, I can't take it sewing through open soars
Oh my, I lay jaded watching my kind endure
Such a time full of hatred
In a land built for open doors
Now I, I'm not waiting for mine to be set ajar
credits
from KHARI vol.1,
released July 3, 2017
Written KHARI THE DUO (Ishma Valenti and Zach Watkins)
Produced by Zach Watkins
Recorded and Mastered by Zach Watkins
Mastered by James Fleege for Silver Street
Jamil Honesty’s hard-hitting LP gets a new video documentary that explores its powerful themes in detail, split into multiple parts. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 3, 2023