| I’m speaking, I’m speaking, okay?
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| Silent no more
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| The blood of our people arising from the shores
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| Ascending from the sand
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| Straight to our hands
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| Dripping from our fingertips
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| Yelling, kicking, screaming
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| And dreaming
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| See, they were here and know they’re gone
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| And we didn’t even have to say so long
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| Because they gave us the blueprint
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| Sat in, marched, slaughtered, and lynched for this shit
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| But we’d rather sit around, get money, clout chase, and gloat
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| Everybody got time, everybody want smoke
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| You can tweet and you can type, but did you motherfuckers vote?
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| I dare you to vote
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| I dare you to leave the trap
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| I dare you to learn more about your credit score
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| I dare you to know less about sports and own more houses and stores
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| Own some shit you could really call yours
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| 'Cause, news flash, it ain’t really your hood if you ain’t own no doors
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| I dare you to rap about anything but your pussy
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| Or how good you suck his-
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| How good you look and how tight your Fashion Nova fit
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| I remember when rap queens really used to spit
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| Like really used to kick shit
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| Would look you dead in the face and ask you, «Who you calling a bitch?»
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| But now it’s just so wet, how wet is it?
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| Is it as wet as our ancestors who were thrown overboat to drown, soaking wet?
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| Like sweat beads running down Harriet’s neck?
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| Wet like immigrants swimming across borders until freedom?
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| Is it wet like Tamika Mallory’s back as she marched down to Louisville,
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| Kentucky for Breonna Taylor as she put her life on the front line?
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| Not knowing if it would be her last time
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| How wet is it?
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| 'Cause Breonna Taylor was here
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| George Floyd was here
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| Ahmaud Arbery was here
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| Rayshard Brooks was here
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| Ronald Green was here
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| Elijah McClain was here
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| Jamarion Robinson was here
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| And now they’re gone
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| And we didn’t even get the chance to say so long |