The spirit of Eunice Waymond in Venezuela
Travel the world inspire the kid's to keep they head up
No tolerance of disrespect towards our young Corettas
You might not understand our slang but don't you dare correct us
My culture started in the streets of the Bronx
And traveled to every radio in motion or parked
I used to beat box on the picnic tables out in the park
Wrote rhymes for my cousins for the battles would start
Early on all my heroes that I had were
Langston Hughes probably led me to the pad
I would write my thoughts down when the world turned
Back when Michael Jackson wrote
But it did matter
None of those parents had kids splattered
Or environments that would encourage us to be combative
What I idolized changed with intuition
And usually the research would always lead me back to a

Cant believe I was afraid to be
It had to be
I ain't have a pair of Jordan's they would tell me I aint
It never bothered me too much at the time
Until I uncovered the underlying façade
There's level to this skin color of mine
If you look like me, I could never be enough to get by
But if we differ then I'm always too much to survive
Uh...You Know I care like Duke Pearson on HoneyBuns
My art is equal in content never in funds
Holbrook is Art Blakey on the drums
As he watches the direction he created to become
Channel a network you can't tap into
Imma start a religion & I'm tryna recruit
God coming back soon in a pin stripe suit
Driving a 57 Bentley coupe
And she's only taking