They don’t want us here, they
Hunt us here, lynch mobs kick in our
Doors. They torture us as our
Women and our children watch in
Awe. 2008, not just
Black anymore, new objective: target
Poor, those who resist, raise up
A fist. Yes, blood must be spilt on
Floor. Down they gun us, over-
-run us, anything to have con-
-trol, and, on Judgment Day, when
All pay, may God have mercy on their
Souls. In the media, we’re
Portrayed evil, constantly get
Dissed. We’re not wanted here, an
Orphan raised just like Oliver
Twist. You had rations. You want
Lashings? Leave. You’re getting on my
Nerve. Stomach growling, I’m still
Hungry. May I please have some more
Sir?