Blood

It is the thickest blood on this planet

The feet, that slip and slide in spilled lakes of black blood

On back roads marked with rusted dead end signs

They don't fit into any shoes

Not Nike's, and not Reebok's, though they

Make em across the sea and sell em to you and me

For fifty times their value *tch* none of them can hold the blood

That coagulated not so long ago, in the lower extremities

Of off-color corpses, strung up from trees

Like, drying figs or, hanging poupourri, to

Sweeten scenes of Southern gallantry

Before cushioned insoles and arch supports

There were feet that sank in rusted chains, and uhh

Backs that cracked beneath the weight of slave names

Like Jones, Smith, Johnson, Williams, or even Hilfiger

And black butts that bore marks forever from irons

That preceded those for pressing and curling naps

Yanked straight, before relaxers weaves and pink lotion

[British accent]

Branding irons children, now that you've crossed the ocean right

Step up here lit-tle nigger on the auction block and open up your mouth

Right, good strong teeth, good muscle tone

You oughta pick a ton of cotton, must be worth ten dollars maybe more

See here ladies and gentlemen how much can I get for this here

Barely used, top of the line...

[American accent returns]

Fast forward to Calvin Klein

And modern ownership tags for black behinds, courtesy of Ralph Lauren

A.K.A. low, low, well how low can you go?

Call on black consumers if you want the cash flow

Cause they quick to flip and spend up all they dough

And don't front money, act like you know

We give it up to the Brook-lyn malls

We give it up to the Uptown malls

Cause the white folks figure ain't no question for a *****

That material posessions can answer

Keep us preoccupied from what we read or what we drive

While our mothers are dying of cancer

We tuck our low self esteem in Euro-trash jeans

Some overpriced **** from Donna Karan

As we toast with Hennesey to covert white supremacy

Hiding the thickest blood on the planet

We wearing it under our clothes, the way God dressed our souls

But, check how the proud blood flow through 1996

Adding fuel to the flames of some bull**** brand names

Cause we couldn't see past the next pair of fat kicks

It is the thickest blood on this planet

The blood that, sprays and spills in buckets

Soaks and stains the nightly news, but **** it

A colored life still ain't worth but a few ducats

That blood can't be contained by any mind that cannot see a

Great black forest for all these cracker trees

I'm talkin about Afro-Madonna, and child, and child

And child, and child, and whoops, there goes another one

And momma don't know the answer so baby gots to Guess

Oh say young blood, you wanna tell me

What George Marciano, ever did for a negro? Boricua, chicano

Brothers and sisters their pockets like blood blisters

Ready to pop, ooze, and drop cash so hot and so fast

It makes a spark

"Yeah mami cause now I got my upside down triangle

My designer question mark"

OH WHY ASK WHY that **** don't make you complete

It's vanilla concealer for your chocolate heartbeat

Pumping the, thickest blood on this planet

While we take it for granted that, more Selma churches won't be bombed

More bullet riddled bodies won't be embalmed

Another cop won't, commit murder turn around and get a raise

While we pickin over the racks from white owned Doctor J's

To Modell's, Macy's, and Sach's

**** they just think we ain't never gon' change our ways

And finally answer back:

"No suh, Ise don't want to wear yo' britches

No suh, Ise don't want to grant yo' wishes

That all us negroes.." .. shall continue to hide, in your shoes

And your clothes, as if we should take pride

In your savage traditions, in genocide

All the spirits you extinguished and never batted one blue eye

Yet your vulture's on our culture like white on brown rice

Bleach our blood and sell it back, special price

On this blood that races through the African veins of the child

On his way to the mall, in White Plains

To catch a confused, lost, land-stealing Columbus Day sale

On a Fila jogging suit, for his brother in jail

That blood, is your blood, it's my blood, it's our blood

It's the, thickest blood on this planet