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Rocwell’s America
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This a portrait of America that Norman couldn't master But crack rock well-suited for the capture Whole hood hostage to that white in the glass But because the prisoners Black, it wasn't labeled a disaster Too hard not to internalize So I keep burning in this personal hell 'til the inferno dies Government feeding us bullsh*t 'stead of truth Giving birth to a dishonest nation, we call it fertile lies We had a house kept getting robbed 'Member the night daddy brought the pistol out to end the men involved And 5-0 came to grace us with their presence two hours after mom dukes had sent the call And who was I? Young Assata from the Zulu tribe Trying to breed love from hate like The Bluest Eye Too many friends long lost to this useless cycle I guess that's a revolutionary suicide Huey saved me, Paulette and Henry made me Proud of humble beginnings, but hungry for domination I'm an abomination The X they can't solve for, smoking revolver Ghost of a Mau Mau, rolling through Upper Marlboro And all of us was struggling just to get by And the reflection is eternal, Talib gave us words to live by But all we want to do was get high Kept a one-hitter of that indica hidden above my mid-thigh Building with the gods 'bout the 120 Hit the Rastas up with the change from my lunch money Cop a Final Call from the NOI Tryna to figure out how to stay up when that misery seems to love our company But we made it through the hurricane That's why I'm quick to speak the truth, but I'm careful not to hurry fame 'Cause even though I came a long way, I Owe less to the struggles where I am than to the tragedy from where I came
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