letra de niggers niggas & niggaz - julian curry
wh-ssup my n-ggas, i said wh-ssup my n-ggas?
that was a trick question
and its nice to see that the tricky ones haven’t tricked most of you all into the
answer/
you see n-gga’s been p-ssed through our families, generation to generation like a
cancer./
it used to be said by slave masters who weren’t in the business of breeding no
dancing n-ggers/
they only wanted good old field n-ggers./
but i wonder how the field n-gga would feel/
if he was seated next to you on the a train at approximately 3 o’ clock any day of
the week
/ and he heard his little great great grandson speak dozens if not hundreds of
times from 59th street to west forth/
the word that made black families pack up in the south and move north./
would he slam a couple of these boys against the doors and ask, what’s the deal
n-gga? do you think you keeping it real n-gga?/
do you know how i was k!lled n-gga? they murdered me, with hot rods of steel
n-gga./
now how do you think this makes me feel n-gga./
or would he just sit there and listen/ silently like white people do /
silently like i do/
silently like we all do. so what do i do?/
i go down to wall street./ do you know why they call it wall street?/
because centuries ago there were these huge high walls and down on the street
slaves with shackles on their feet/
were there to be bought and sold by the fleet./ like shares of intel/
phrases shouted daily like/
where’s my n-ggers?/ there’s my n-ggers. whose n-ggers are those?/
now here we are centuries after slavery/
insulting our ancestors bravery by shouting phrases daily like./ where’s my
n-gga?
wodap n-gga, you know you my n-gga right?/
so don’t blame the boys on the a-train./
blame who put the myth it was ok to say it in their brain./ blame the kings of
comedy, the all time n-gga record holders./
put the blame on quentin tarantino’s shoulders. and hopefully this n-gga
n-gga, n-gga poem is making you uncomfortable./
to the point where you’re cracking your neck and staring down at the ground./
looking to your left and your right, staring at the few white people around./
helping you realize that you’ve been bamboozled if you think you have to wear
blackface to be a clown./
but i gotta go now, i gotta go now, i gotta go now./
i gotta get this poem in the hands of the artist formerly known as prince now/
because when it comes to talent, ain’t n0body’s bigger./
and maybe this poem can be the gun and his voice could be the trigger./
we could collaborate and figure a way to convince jigga/
to help us write a new dream song or a new theme song and call it/ the people
formerly known as n-ggers
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