| Hey man, we need to talk
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| And this time I’ll try not yelling
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| I just don’t appreciate remarks
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| About how ‘real black people' are jive talking fatherless felons
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| Who the fuck are you to tell me I’m not black enough?
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| Cuz if I lost my cool in the eyes of the law I’d be 2 shades too dark to trust
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| Being black isn’t getting to use the N word
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| Honestly I’d prefer if no one said it all
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| No, being black isn’t wearing a ‘Free Chief Keef' tall t-shirt
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| Waiting for your father or parole officer to call
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| No, that’s not it
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| Hey man, you’re kind of an asshole
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| For thinking it’s cool to say that shit
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| I never fucking asked you
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| Your opinions on Tyler Perry or interracial relationships
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| Or how bad you want to fuck a black girl
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| Because objectification’s some accomplishment
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| Or how easy I must have it
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| Because what’s in my pants must be really big
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| But being black isn’t having a 12 inch dick
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| Although I’ve let the assumption get me laid more times than I care to admit
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| No, being black isn’t being a mad woman
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| Having to trick or gold dig to support hood rat kids |
| No, that’s not it
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| So hey man, don’t you dare tell me what I am
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| I’m not your oreo or a coconut
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| Or whatever clever euphemisms you make up
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| I know it’s hard to believe
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| But we’re not all the same
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| I don’t need your insight on my people’s pop culture
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| Let that sink in
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| I’m black
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| And most days I’m proud to be
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| Proud of our culture, proud of or history
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| But that doesn’t solely define me
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| I refuse to let my skin color become my identity
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| Or whatever else you want to try to use to confine me
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| So who are you to tell me I’m not black enough? |