My father Malcom X and my mom is Rosa Parks, I know what you’re thinking cuz my skin ain’t dark, but im here to stop the violence, cuz we needa be fly like pilots, our sails with strong eyelets, and why this, confusion, giving me a delusion, making me see an illusion, and now im just refusing, these thoughts that keep on bruising, the images in my brain, but i wont just sit and complain, i will get a drain, and make these thoughts leak, yeah i know that i probably wreak, but i dont want to think, can you see that im on the brink, there is a chain with a broken link, and it makes me sink, deeper into insanity, where is the humanity, something is daming me, without repreiv, my eyes must deseave, because it was to me who i thought you took your leave, without any releif, now i see an end in sight, but i need to make one more fight, then i will be light, and go into the night, with a clear bang, you need to  learn a new slang, you know you hear me plain, so you little dame, just dont all be the same, hypocricy, that is mocking me, and locking me, in a dark room, with so much gloom, so i box that shit, yeah it was still toxic, so i rocked it, and love the absence, of that sence, the one of sight, when im alone at night, walk around like the blind, stumble around until i find, a life to live in, but its not always a given, that it will be good, sometimes you end up in a bad mood, and dont know, where right to go, so you rise against, what you think your pain represents, in you rage, you rip out a page, and do too much damage.