Stop killing, brother you are already marked because of your color So why not put us all in jail? Chance we’ll become like snails Chance we won’t rebel On me, they left indelible scars I’m over here spitting rhymes behind bars They thought the box would get me like Kunta in captivity but I’m still free Up north I come from down south with the greatest tool my mouth my words my rhymes dark in skin tone like the dapperest of Dan
