Brotha Tongue

No one cares how real it is
Soul sellers stand on life avenue flipping scripts
Dont accept Gab's gift
He bites his bottom lip
They conspire with the trend
Spitting out knowledge with no implementation
A purge is needed, give them a enema
Staining brains with that bullshit called game
The current state of suffering is not cryptic
We only know the post apocalyptic
The mold gets hard and callus
No movement with in it
Castrate a race at its culture
In the land of the lost become something other
The composers to the soundtrack of your life constantly edits your destiny
They say just be, and its a conflict with my originality
The instructions they feed
What was the sacrifice for equality
The future and the community?
Soul seller with chains called you property
Owners called you profit and prosperity
When they hear your speak sincerely
They say "nigga please"