| Apparently I’m second generation black Caribbean
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| And half white Scottish whatever that means
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| See lately I feel confused with the boxes
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| Cause to me all they do is breed conflict
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| It’s not that I’ve lost touch with the reality
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| Racism, sexism and nationality
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| Just to me it all seems like insanity
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| Why must I rob you of your humanity
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| To feel good about mine?
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| It’s all about crime
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| Dehumanizing is how I justify it
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| So I must keep on lying about the history of Africa
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| So I can live the with massacres
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| And repeat my mantra of Muslim and terrorist
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| So I can sleep at night as bombs take flight
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| Eyes open wide but I’m blind to the sight
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| Too busy chasing the perfect life
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| And the working class keep them uneducated
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| Truly educated men could never be a racist
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| To educate is to draw out what is within
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| Are we not all the same under the skin?
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| I got a heart like yours that pumps blood and oxygen
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| And insecurities are a whole lot of them I’m scared like you deep down
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| I really do care that world is not fair like you
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| But I don’t even believe my own prayers like you
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| Chasing career going nowhere like you
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| Lost in a fog of my own insecurities
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| I hold myself up as an image of purity
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| And I judge everybody else
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| By the color of their skin or the size of their wealth
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| But it’s not good for my health
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| As the only one I ever really judge is myself
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| The oppressor must suffer like the oppressed
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| Though I pretend I’m in control of this mess
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| By inflating my ego, puffing my chest
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| I see my weakness, and need to show strength
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| Or what we think strong is because if we’re honest?
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| True strength is the strength to be honest
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| And if I’m honest I am just tired
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| If I’m honest I am just tired
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| Tired of everyday filling up my car and knowing that
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| I’m paying for the bombs in Iraq
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| Tired of pretending like it don’t hurt my heart
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| Of wanting change but not knowing where to start
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| Tired of listening to all the conditioning
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| And all the forms they got me filling in
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| Next time you see what is a thug and despise him
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| Please know I was just like him
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| Cause I was like eight the first time I saw crack
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| Same time I first smoked weed choking on blowbacks
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| First time I saw knifes penetrate flesh
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| It was meat cleavers to the back of the head
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| As I grew and teenage years passed
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| Many more knifes pierced and the shots blast
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| And I not saying I had the worst upbringing
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| But there’s a million young men just like me in prison
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| We complain about racism and elevate clowns
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| With their trousers down swinging their dicks round
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| Maybe that is not quite literal
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| But everything they do is just as stereotypical
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| To my real fans I feel your pain
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| And I get the messages, but don’t complain
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| That we ain’t got more fame for paying our part
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| They can keep the charts all I want is your hearts
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| They can keep the charts all I want is your hearts
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| They can keep the charts all I want is your hearts
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| Calling it black radio, don’t make laugh
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| So is black music all about tits and arse?
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| You don’t represent nothing, you’re just pretending
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| When was the last time you ever played Hendrix?
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| Or Miles Davis or John Coltrane?
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| Or Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday?
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| We can call it urban to me that’s cool
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| If urban means street, that includes jazz too
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| And rock for that matter
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| Go ask Mick Jagger or Jimmy Page what they were listening to — the blues
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| Not discrediting, love Zeppelin too, just giving credit where credit is due
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| That blood soaked word rappers still use
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| All it really shows is that we still self abuse
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| That was the word that was used to kill Kelso Cochrane and Emmett Till
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| That was the word that the conscience eased
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| And made people pleased to hung you from trees
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| That was the word that let the whips crack
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| No matter what you say you can’t take it back
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| And I can say their black so I feel their pain easier
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| But 1915 look at Armenia
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| If the whole world is human stupidity
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| Though we choke ourselves to death quite literally
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| And I can talk with my comfortable mouth
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| With my comfortable clothes and my comfortable house
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| The tables will turn, we can but stall them
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| Every empire on this earth has fallen
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| So unless we can find another way
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| Maybe not today, but it will come one day
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| It may sound like I’m bitter but in fact truth be told I am quite the opposite
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| I wake everyday and am overwhelmed
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| Just to be alive and be like no one else
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| And the sheer weight of the thought of space
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| Is enough to keep my little ego in place
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| All that we chase and try to replace, all along it was right in our face
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| The only way we can ever change anything
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| Is to look in the mirror and find no enemy
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| The only way we can ever change anything
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| Look in the mirror and find no enemy |