Boys claimin’
they’re men, fast track to the grave
Thinkin’ they’re players all the time bein’ played Babies have babies, mamas pass blame Sisters and daughters don’t know their real name Rappers proclaim, we just showin’ what’s real Children then copy till the day that they’re killed A system designed to imprison our youth Embellishing lies, disguising the truth Sisters disrobing on video screens Renouncing their rights as African queens Brothers gone wild with lascivious acts Minds chained to slavery, that’s just the facts I’m not hatin’ the players, I’m hatin’ the game Dollars and cents got a lock on their brains Hi tech plantations raping our village Corporate execs continue to pillage Movies corrupting with negative themes Drugs, sex and crime, a genocidal scheme Influencing children, repeating the hooks Keeping them down, re-writing the books Plantations ain’t changed in four hundred years Still whippin’ and beatin’ slaves into fear Fear of lovin’ yourself, men, women and kids Fear of planning a future educatin’ your peers Fear of seein’ the truth, fear of havin’ respect Fear of claiming a culture of wealth, not neglect I’m not hatin’ the players, I’m hatin’ the game Dollars and cents padlocking their brains Thugs grinnin’ and smilin’ with chains ‘round their neck Gold ‘stead of iron has the same slave effect House Negroes happy they don’t have to go Massa he love us, let us sell all his dope We better off now, we got bling, we got flash Fat pockets with cash and the massa just laughs |
I’m not hatin’
the players, I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents got a lock on their brains The dogs in the yard used to keep us at bay Now we callin’ our brothers by the same canine name The Underground Railroad once used to escape Gotta be resurrected to end this slave rape Young poets and writers, rappers too Gotta build new tracks preparing our youth ‘Stead of hatin’ on players who’s tryin’ to stand tall Pick up the challenge, pick up the ball Read ‘tween the lines, ‘cause that’s where truth lies Break out of the box, start savin’ lives Don’t be a slave with a house, car and boat Grinning and shuffling, refusing to vote I’m not hatin’ the players, I’m hatin’ the game Dollars and cents padlocking their brains Ancestors suffered, robbed of their name Raped of their heritage; think this is a game? Strung up and hung from the tallest tree Whipped and tortured in their fight to be free All this abuse to liberate you Give you a chance to start out anew To resurrect families, fulfilling your dreams With culture and values, silencing screams Erasing the nightmare of horrendous attacks Bringing back life with courageous acts Become heroes and heroines to ones you hold dear Leave legacies of love, not those of fear Copyright © 2004 by F. Geoffrey Johnson All rights reserved First published in Restoration, a collection of poetry and prose, 2005 First reprinted in Crux: A conversation in words and images, South Africa to South USA, 2007 |