Baby Boy

by J. Griot

Baby Boy,
Will your name be Ayinde`? Or possibly Amir?
Or possible Aziz?
But one things clear
The last name's Muhammad,
Worthy to Be Praised
Praises to The God for the Blessings that he gave
And the baby that we made starting out from a clot
By the pen men learn what men knew not
My brain was in a knot
Mentally twisted
I used to live for low desires looking to get lifted
Knowing I was gifted, but never utilizing
The talents I was blessed with, steady justifying
The shoes I was tying were dirty from the dirt
The liquor made me sicker, but numb from the hurt
Looking for the skirts, not the heart in the shirt
The Million Man March put me on red alert
I had to go to work seeking for some knowledge
I didn't find any partying in college
Foundation must be solid
But the corner stone's rejected
A Message to the Black Man gave me new perspective
And this is reflective,
Thinking on the womb
I feel like Lazarus, I was once inside a tomb
Your mother starts to bloom, and I'm sure I'll see you soon
Pumping in her veins is the love she consumes
Conceived in June,
I'll see you later on in March
I still don't know your name
But it's written in my heart
Baby Boy

What's your name, Baby Boy?

Baby Boy,
Will you be a scientist? Or possibly a Star
Shining like the sun
Bearing witness who you are
Original Man,
The last shall be first
The first shall be last, and the rest shall be cursed
I rehearse every verse that I write with my pen
For the best nation that was raised for men
The devil tries again
The author of confusion
There used to be a time when I found it all amusing
I knew what I was doing, but I tried to front
Talking Black Power, puffing on a blunt
On a death hunt, I was searching like a tracker
Thinking I was free cause I didn't see the master
Now I'm hearing laughter from the deaf, dumb, and blind
Building like I'm Noah, got the Mission on my mind
You must know the Time and what must be done
I'm studying my lessons to teach them to you, Son
Because you could be the one, Baby Boy, to set it off
Many do it for the money, but they can't afford the cost
Black boys lost
Can we find ghetto love
After 400 years of our labor, sweat, and blood?
Disbeliveers shrug, but we're rising from the mud
Death passes by, by the sign of the dove
We embrace and hug
As your new life starts
Ayinde` is your name
It was written in my heart
Baby Boy

Baby Boy by J. Griot

© Copyright 1998. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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