Familiar (Now What? the Same Shit.)

[1] This one for the ****,

The ones that was called that descriptor

When they was delivered

Out there in Virginia,

The ones ever since who have taken the care to defend the

People surrendered from coast to the coast to the cold and the whip of the lash,

I never lived it, but I’ll tell now…

Boy it’s familiar.

Said, boy, it’s familiar.

For the gangs with the chains on they hands and they ankles it ain’t just a sankofa song.

For the Kings, whether Martin or Rodney, who knew it unlikely but asked could we all get along!

For the answer we know to that question that keep us a little suspicious,

We ain’t the first that have wished it.

We ain’t the first ones to get it.

Said, boy, it’s familiar.

For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters

Who don’t get attention but often are victims,

So they suffer in silence from all kinds of violence

And try as they might we don’t listen.

For the beatings, the treatment, the rapings, the hangings and lynchings,

I hope that we can be forgiven.

I never lived it, but boy, it’s familiar.

Say, boy, it’s familiar.

All black on my windows,

Pistol under my pillow,

If I’m an activist, I’m no pacifist.

I’m just keeping shit real, though.

I ain’t turning a blind eye,

And I ain’t expecting no heroes.

I ain’t pressing no 911,

But I ain’t living in fear, though.

[Hook]

Now what?

The same shit. The same shit.

Now what?

The same shit. The same shit.

Now what?

The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? The same shit.

Now what? The same shit.

Boy, it’s familiar,

Mess with them boys, and they kill you,

Then get a lawyer to deal with

Annoying appeals to

The public to show ‘em they did ‘em

A favor destroying a villain.

No, you ain’t living

If you know you ain’t living

But seconds away from a sentence,

Making a way for a system.

You die or they take you to prison.

Take what they know you ain’t giving.

[2] This one for the ****

Who just got from prison,

Or on they way, stuck on the ave.

Hustle from morning to evening for things that they need

Or the things they can have.

City’s so cold, that you gotta fend for yourself, they compare it to Iraq,

‘cause it’s a war that we live in.

Imagine the war when our children say “Boy, it’s familiar.”

For the gangs and the fame

And the whips and the chains

And the game that we play through the pain

That we drench ourselves in when we win

Since we win at the game then it seems we should call it champ pain.

Elevated—we taking the L but we winning,

‘cause we still living.

Living through pain, but we living.

Giving through strain, but we giving.

Boy, it’s familiar.

For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters

We don’t give attention but often are victims,

We inflict them with violence

And tell them to suffer in silence, so why would we listen?

For the beatings, the treatment, the rapings, the hangings and lynchings,

I hope we can be forgiven.

I hope we can be forgiven.

Boy, it’s familiar.

All black on my windows,

Pistol under my pillow,

If I’m an activist, I’m no pacifist.

I’m just keeping shit real, though.

I ain’t turning a blind eye,

And I ain’t expecting no heroes.

I ain’t pressing no 911,

But I ain’t living in fear, though.

[Hook]

Now what?

The same shit. The same shit.

Now what?

The same shit. The same shit.

Now what?

The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? The same shit.

Now what? The same shit.

Boy, it’s familiar,

Mess with them boys, and they kill you,

Then get a lawyer to deal with

Annoying appeals to

The public to show ‘em they did ‘em

A favor destroying a villain.

No, you ain’t living

If you know you ain’t living

But seconds away from a sentence,

Making a way for a system.

You die or they take you to prison.

Take what they know you ain’t giving.