Rob Mitchell – A Fistful of Dollars [Video]

we carved our lands from the hoods they

put us in rolled up our sleeves headed

west and called it manifested destiny

dressed up a black face cod my god

recovered the entire Nativity God Jesus

rocking them robes and black locks took

the frankincense and the myrrh and

crafted idols out of money and status

but not the gold no no gold at all no

chains no grills no rings without a

college seal nothing no one could ever

mistake as a gun we buried these

treasures with the dead they were

underground Kingz

but we we are the children of tomorrow

only hope only dreams we preach peace

teach kids to speak in Hall words and

complex sentences built mansions like

temples and chase out the dope veins and

the gangbangers with the whip flipped

the Bandos into condominiums we carved

our lands out of the hoods they put us

in and claimed ourselves free of

but when I found out that we was

2 or the day Conner called Jonathan and

at the predominantly white

Southern Christian private school I went

to

I knew longer knew which God to pray to

my god our parents tried to give us joy

they fashioned feasts out of the scraps

of land no longer coveted by mortal men

all while our brothers starved at our

doorstep grabbing for a dollar or a

morsel of pity each time we tread out

the house over their outstretched hands

and I wonder how I’m supposed to get to

heaven weighed down with all his black

grief wonder how I ever saw the holiness

inside of me covered and all this black

skin could God forgive us for claiming

the land for turning cheek and he’ll get

anything he’ll the star we carved across

the hood claimed cask

and College Park once Murphy went to a

party in the West and introduced himself

and they say why he talk white and

why he speak with whole words like he

ain’t broke too like he ain’t from the

block to trap to like he ain’t get his

kicks on Bankhead but the rest of Murphy

spawn says hon I black – are you not my

brother never knowing if it was by birth

or simply foster care they call us Uncle

Tom’s and bougie we call it educated we

call them hood rats and jigaboos they

call it survival so now I wonder do we

truly live under the same sky do we

speak the same language with the same

tongue or our similarities only

skin-deep

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