December 2002
We got it rough, in society
Oppression and poverty
It's time we reclaimed our liberty
The statistics, sadistic
Make me wanna be sick
And break off the stick
That holds us all down
And makes us act like clowns, who frown
Not the smiling ones
That bring laughter and happiness
But crying and sadness
And makes me say this
You Rapists
And they say Dead Men Don't Rape
When I get raped daily by this thing called history
It is such a mystery
Why my mothers were not included
Why their voices were precluded
By the intention of men
With blood on their pens
Well, I got news for you brother
Those stories haven't all been forgotten
I still know how rotten
It was to be a slave
And what our mothers gave
Cause they knew we'd be here
And we wouldn't have the fear.