Little black boy, on the way to store,
He ran out of skittles and he wanted more,
Not walking at night, for drugs or liquor..
Black hoodie and a snapple—Zimmerman pulled the trigger.
During the National Anthem, some ball players take a knee,
Bringing awareness to the injustices of our country,
It’s not about a flag or the president either,
It’s about murdering black people and walking by ’em like litter
The badge and a gun–a green light for their trigger.
She used to be lively, and full of light,
But that man and another–abused her at night,
Told her to keep her mouth shut, and it would be alright.
Now she’s all grown up, promiscuous and bitter
One wrong touch–Mental and Emotional, Trigger.
They fear my brother, so they lock him up,
And when they can’t do that–they’re excessively rough.
He’s got .5 seconds to comply, to a half-ass demand,
And before he’s given a chance, they’ve got a gun in their hand..
They laugh and tell their friends– “He’s a dead nigger”
And before read him his rights, he hears their trigger.
It’s the inhumanity that makes my heart beat quicker
Another man or woman murdered–the world is getting sicker
My emotions control me, and my thoughts get disfigured,
I piece em up taking this thought and that one,
My ideas get bigger,
That pad and this pen–
My intellectual, trigger. . . . .