The Black Holocaust

by J. Griot

You can play a tape to escape,
But you can't hide from self
I used to have delight for rappers
Now they're all about the wealth
The devil moves in stealth and you must be on alert
So I strive to raise my seed like Kunta Kinte at his birth
In the universe I know I'm more than just a slave;
In my heart I've got a thirst for the knowledge to amaze
It's crazy!
Streetwise survives no better
Nothing's really real in this land of patten leather
She was hungry, so I fed her
With the bread of life
Once she got a taste of truth
Then she had to be my wife
When the Fruit is ripe
It's time for the harvest
The city's like a jungle
And we're lost inside the forest
Do your best and you'll achieve?
Who the hell told you the lie?
Living's kind of hard
And it's easier to die
So I strive to stay alive in a land of guns and knives
Thankful for the blessings of the Light 'cause it shines
Rely on the Mind,
Work it out like jazzercise
The percent of earth that's water equals seven five
Analyze the facts,
Put the real back into raps
Waking up the Brotha's in fatigues and FuBu hats
I can hear the gun claps,
But they're in the wrong direction
The beast has rubber bullets
And it's all for your protection
Infection of the mental if you believe the lies
The noose around your neck doesn't equal family ties
Mothers start to cry for the lose of their sons
I started writting rhymes before the age of twenty one
When you were really young,
And didn't know the cost
Of the Black Holocaust...

The Black Holocaust 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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