Pac still wise, DP is all right, Mr. King Died but we still alive.
Some peeps lost sight, and the streets still tight.
Still in the back of the bus - sometimes.
I know progression’s fly, but now we turn our eyes...
Back to the history that formed our minds.
With the boat ride, and the whips all night...
I couldn’t sleep when I heard that plight
and I still can’t rest when it stirs my mind!
This reminder is etched - and in vain they can’t die...
And the history is there, read from what they can’t show.
They were strong back then, the shame is not to know.

So when you ask me why? Why I dare to try
You better understand it’s not just my life.
And now I’m thinking right, I’m thinking right?
How many years from Chisolm to Obama’s time?
Fifty right? but that’s a damn long time.
Cuz it's now black or woman on the same ticket line.
Now here are my thoughts and let this be known...
A prejudice mind is something that I don’t own...
and don’t condone - disgusted to the marrow of bone.

You can reserve your judgement but it won’t reserve my thrown...
My thrown is the righteous mind of which such as Tolson spoke.
Like the Harlem Renaissance I tuned in to harmony that I know.
We need another movement but not for one alone.
No prejudice mind so the roots are wide and deep grown...
From east to west, one blood, and one soul.