Can I go
Before a target
Is attached
To my back
Splat
The blood
From the whip crack
Across my back
Walking while a black
Kid
Breaking off the tips of my locs
Sorry my hair
Don’t grow like yours
Charge it to the melanin
My pores
It don’t pay to be poor
Whip crack my granny’s back
I’m still feelin the
Ain’t no healing the sores
They’ll shoot us for it
Then sell it in stores
An image
White kids pick up from the poor
Say this the illest shit
A hooded Militant
Black kids
Tend to be
perceived
Villainous
Or
Insignificant
Or indifferent
Or just plain ignorant