I can’t imagine being sleep IN MY OWN HOME,
Then all of a sudden, I’m shot eight times…
Dead and gone,
Breonna Taylor my heart cries for you,
Police brutality constantly disregards the truth,
I can’t imagine being sleep IN MY OWN HOME,
And then being riddled with bullets like Fred Hampton,
Instead of camping or chilling in the Hamptons,
I’m dead,
A fucking hashtag instead,
They said it was a shootout,
But I didn’t even have time to pull my tool out,
Shot in my sleep,
Minutes later, the officers are joking
About where they are going to eat,
Even in death I can’t find peace,
Then again, it’s even worse to be forgotten
Like an old Indian Chief…
Breonna Taylor’s murder was treated like an afterthought,
And the craziest part is the dude they were actually after
Had already been caught,
I reiterate, she was merely trying to sleep,
And you wonder why we compare the police
To those creeps in white sheets,
Not too far removed from the days
Of the slave patrol badges,
Fucking savages,
Damn knee was on George Floyd’s neck
Long enough to sing the national anthem 5 or 6 times,
Being Black means your skin color is a crime,
Being Black means you aren’t even safe
IN YOUR OWN HOME…
Just ask Atatiana Jefferson or Botham Jean,
Atatiana died on the scene,
Botham died in the hospital while being seen,
When your lives aren’t valued this is how they treat you,
Sadness and outrage has way too many sequels,
Breonna Taylor my heart cries for you,
The Blackman is the target,
But let’s stop acting like our Black women
Aren’t being murdered too,
They get less attention,
Picture that,
The Queen of civilization getting less attention…
No mentions, in these lynchings,
I’m sick of penning this shit,
Activism through art,
Because otherwise, I might sin in this bitch,
Not because I’m militant,
But because I’m just over this shit,
Not in the forgiving mood,
When they spoke about hanging,
And then lowering dude over a fire pit,
Burning him alive,
He tried to escape the pain by grabbing the tree,
They cut his fingers off,
Savagely,
His murder celebrated at picnics
And on postcards,
Being Black is this country is so hard,
Love our culture
But kill our people without regard,
People are still protesting,
Man look how many years we’ve fought,
But racism is still being taught,
Plus, it is deeply woven in every fabric imaginable,
Some bigots like their racism quiet and casual,
Others display it loudly and proudly,
White silence is why this violence has lasted this long,
But more than that, the economic disparity,
Still, there was no sparing me,
When I was murdered IN MY OWN HOME…