Real Hip-Hop

by J. Griot

One man's pain is another man's pleasure
Some think pleasure's all about buried treasure
But I would rather measure 
The value of myself
With knowledge of self 
As I help someone else
Now, some would say 
That's corny,
Or say 
I'm not real,
Some would say
Boy you betta' pack yo' steal, 
But why's it got to be like that?
Isn't it enough that we all get jacked
And attacked
So I attack back with Black
Now you're pulling me down,
Like crabs in a stack?
I can't feel it
Wake up and smell the coffee;
You add a little cream
And it's still not ice cream
I had a dream one time,
But it ended with a shot
Now it seems like Farrakhan's 
The only hero that I've got
Am I wrong 
For saying 
All the time?
Am I wrong 
For saying 
Brotherman wake up your mind?
Babies start to whine 
When they don't understand;
but when they grow up
Then they'll understand the plan
Respect it

True Hip Hop...

Real Hip-Hop by J. Griot

© Copyright 2001. 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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