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letra de born browner - obasi

[verse 1]
uh, he was
five years old when he realized he was black
kindergarten teacher wouldn’t cut him any slack
saw his doodle in the back—couldn’t draw within the lines
she told him that it usually took longer for his kind
mama pulled him out the school next day
told him he would learn to read the old-fashioned way
he stayed a little jaded from that prejudiced encounter
frustrated learned to hate himself for being born browner
around a decade and a half later, weighted and deflated
he hated that his shade had made his fate so complicated
found a group of friends who all shared his agitation
irritation at the nation was their occupation
confirmation of negation led him to temptation—
that’s what placed him on his face in front of a gas station
cuffs cut his wrists, hounded down by the law
took him to the pound, said he had one call:
“mama, help me, i don’t know what i’ma do!
i understand now, i shoulda listened to you
mama, tell me you gon’ come down here and get me out!
they saying it’s too late; don’t know what that’s about
mama, please believe me, i said i ain’t mean no harm!
he wouldn’t listen, wasn’t gentle, almost broke my arm!
tell me you gon’ come quick and open up the door
tell me there’s forgiveness even for a colored boy!”

[verse 2]
but he was looking for forgiveness in the wrong place
tears running down his and his mom’s face
she tried to erase the thought that there could be race
involved in any case that could make the boy that she raised
and taught to tie his shoelace, waste away his days
in a place interlaced with the taste of racist hate
she prayed with him, interceding for the lord’s grace
said she’d do what it take keep her boy safe
had to cut the gas bill so she could post bond
and when he got home, not one of his friends was there for him
spent the months alone waiting for his court date
eighteen years old and the state had this boy’s fate
too late to run, now the judge looking him up and down
wearing a frown, puffed out chest, gavel and gown
friends testify against him, mama’s in the crowd
the judge scowls, “boy, what you got to say now?”
“your honor, i’m honestly just tryna understand
i pled guilty cause my lawyer said he had a plan
yeah i sold, but they piling the charge on me—
that’s more crack cocaine than i have ever seen!
and homie, i mean your honor, life without parole?
i mean, i know i did wrong, but i’m a human, yo
i ain’t k!ll n-body, homie, i’m sincerely sorry
don’t wanna be a statistic in somebody’s story!”

[verse 3]
and i hate to end it there, but i’m sorry too
cause i embellished, to be fair, but the story’s true
it’s been 22 years since that boy was charged
ronald evans is his name and his story’s par
for the course; course, no remorse
from a system more criminal than those that it forces
through courts by enforcing only laws it distorts
and then storing our black men away like we corpses
i forfeit! if i don’t say it till i’m ho-rs-
and the enforcement is saying that they for us
but they’re preying on our poorest
and we’re paying with our boys
and i pray it don’t destroy us
but i’m staying for the course
cause i know they can’t ignore us!
we got voices; we make noises
brown and black, together we a fourth, we got forces!
it’s a revolutionary war, where the horses?
yo, i think i’m married to the cause, can’t divorce us!
the war on drugs is a war we can win
m-ss incarceration, shout mich-lle alexand’
here’s the plan: grab a pen
grab a hand, take a stand
we need women and men
we don’t care ’bout your tan
black, brown, yellow, red white blue
race matters to them, but we got work to do
i’m ashamed if i’m quiet, and same goes for you
stay woke, and remember, black lives matter too

- obasi

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