Bobby Blue Bland: “You know how it feels.

You understand

What it is to be a stranger in this unfriendly land.

Here’s my—”

Denzel Washington as Malcolm X: “What would you call an educated Negro with a BA, or an MA, or a BS or a PhD?

I’ll tell you. You call him a ****! That’s what.”

[1] They say History is written by the victors,

So when you see my picture

In the book it’ll be consistent with my memory,

My victories, my tendencies that tempered me and wintered me.

Cold, like those Chi City winds, ‘cause they’re blistering.

It’s in my DNA.

It’s in my bloodline.

What I do is much deeper than a punchline.

Where I’m from crime

Is the norm.

Bullets hail—we stay calm amidst the storm.

I say ‘we’ because

When I say ‘me’ it’s us.

When I say ‘you’ it’s me, too, and vice versa.

It’s not much that needs to be proven in nice verses.

Write cursive—scribble out—print it like I meant it.

My people closed minded—

Wear it if you fit it.

Rarely **** get it. If they did it would be critically acclaimed.

But still the same A-Dot.

Still focused on my vision at a rate they not.

[Hook]

Still hoping for some healing from this place I got to,

And knowing **** feel it when I say ‘I got you.’

Is enough to keep me cool for the moment.

School in the mornings,

Teach in the evenings and be decent.

No time to sleep in;

Just create these

Statements like a dissertation for a PhD

“What would you call an educated Negro with a BA, or an MA, or a BS or a PhD?

I’ll tell you. You call him a ****! That’s what.”

[2] So, I finally made my move to the South, and as I’m moving about

I get a better understanding what my roots is about,

Because my people from here, and though I can’t see ‘em from here

They’re reflected in my expressions

So you’re hearing ‘em clear.

They ask me, “Why would you leave?”

I ask ‘em, “How could I stay

And be limited on the shit I have the power to say?”

I’m thinking years in the future.

They’re thinking now and today,

Like getting showered with flowers,

Not in the aisle at your grave.

It’s hard to make it make sense.

My momma proud as can be,

But says, “I thought you left before to get a college degree?”

And as I tell her, “I did, but I’m going back in the summer.”

It kind of makes me wonder what the fuck I’ll do with another.

It’s nothing more than a question—rhetorical one, at that.

I mean, the fact is all of this shit started off with a rap.

And if I’m still doing that

I think I’m doing okay.

If it ain’t complimentary, then you ain’t got shit to say [to me].

[Hook]

Still hoping for some healing from this place I got to,

And knowing **** feel it when I say ‘I got you.’

Is enough to keep me cool for the moment.

School in the mornings,

Teach in the evenings and be decent.

No time to sleep in;

Just create these

Statements like a dissertation for a PhD

“What would you call an educated Negro with a BA, or an MA, or a BS or a PhD?

I’ll tell you. You call him a ****! That’s what.”

[3] Because you read it in a book,

Thought that it was true;

Saw it on the television—thought that it was you.

Self-fulfilling politics get taught to you at school.

Brolic ‘cause you brought with it a positively rude

Mind state. I keep mine like a blind date:

I can be objective,

I can be accepting,

But I’d rather be selective.

If I’m not respected I’m the wrong **** to f’ with.

If you saw my checklist

You knew this was next. It’s

Not a matter of simply rapping.

I really happen to have a strategy being enacted.

If you know, you know I ain’t afraid of spittin’

What I know is true ‘cause I’m south of the Mason-Dixon.

If I know the truth it’s my duty to make revisions;

Showing my peoples’ beauty and skewing what They envision.

I make my living off the things that I think.

Therefore, I am.

I’ll give that a minute to sink

In.

[Hook]

Still hoping for some healing from this place I got to,

And knowing **** feel it when I say ‘I got you.’

Is enough to keep me cool for the moment.

School in the mornings,

Teach in the evenings and be decent.

No time to sleep in;

Just create these

Statements like a dissertation for a PhD

“What would you call an educated Negro with a BA, or an MA, or a BS or a PhD?

I’ll tell you. You call him a ****! That’s what.”