Well, you can dream long as you breathe You could be the motherfucking president of United States Get murdered right on the streets.

Welcome, Thio, Father.

My pop gave me to suffer.

The friends I will follow was crack babies The hustlers It's still shopping Still in the bloc Made me a couple of my pen is from the future like Octavia Butler's my grandmother's future The flag from bloody cotton, The fruits of her labor Alas, already writing my man said you was crazy How fast that we forgot that we used to pull boxes and plans like we were oxen and cab without option And that was this glorious victorious story Only pitch for me to shut down They sold some of us down the rivers in such a poor level of four I get shivers is insidious and it's always been hideous I had the trap water in front be amphibious They do so dirty for one year What cleanliness and make you wanna let off a gun until the emptiness life I love it Greece.

Now tell me what happened all your feet?

Well, yeah, I'm ill fated and hated.

I'm hella melanin ated blackness is my religion to that I'm dedicated.

I follow the laws of nature by which I'm regulated the universe My university I'm educated this'll One is for my very revolutionaries out keeping it 100.

Even though the truth is heavy who stand firmly and see their life is a journey that either got on a journey My public defender, Burmese soldiers The district attorney in a turbulent trial told me that time is Master What?

I'm serving it now Tell my family I'll be making my returning A blouse and every symbol of oppression I'll be burning it down Welcome to America where you dream as long as you breathe You could be the motherfucking present A United States get murdered right on these streets Welcome to America Land of breathe and home of the free You could be a saint or sinner or billionaire Just staying real theater Welcome to America.

Tomorrow may not come and leave I felt our leave Hey, hey now Hey now a black soul never passes alone If his blood spilled on the ancestors ashes and bone from a pure heart The Lord fashioned after his own When back and flown to the essence of his African thrown for every lost body.

Cross tarred, feathered.

And there's no way I could measure the course or ever exhaust for whether it's yours or mine.

This American Clark has never been solved.

While history was running its course, I ran hard from James Town, was laid down Jesus and found demons and never be charged with my Jesus.

I sat revival.

Though I never found freedoms, I found that we had never known shit about freedom.

I've been charged with treason.

I've been scarred and freeze, and I've been called the *** and then called the Heat on one hand.

Family they couldn't even tell if I was breathing in America went on Black Men.

It's open season.