Crooked Smile

October 2, 2017
By Jemima SILVER, Cambridge, Massachusetts
Jemima SILVER, Cambridge, Massachusetts
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

How does it really feel - to be young and black?
Walking around and police think you sell big time drugs like crack?
You wake up every morning ya momma living with fright,
She praying that you can make it back for dinner tonight.
What kind of man will tell you, to put your hands up
Shoot you in the chest and take your life without a heads up.
“Aye son, come over here” the last line a n**ga hears ‘fore he’s down 6 ft or in a cell full of tears.

Now son, always remember what i told you
If you wanna make it out here don’t let them cops fool you
They ain’t ya friends, and they don’t like you
We look the same, ain’t nothing change
don’t let them strike you
Don’t wear a hood, buy a drink, Trayvon Martin
Don’t even look em in the eye, they stay frontin
Don’t play with guns, toy guns, Tamir Rice
The poor boy didn’t even get to live his life
You see a white girl? move away from her,
Remember that open casket? It was Emmett Till
Cause being black means we got extra hills
Oh you can’t breathe?

Shut up, it don’t matter.
They even killed our brother, Mr. Eric Garner.
Baby boy, learn the game. Listen to me and please act smarter.

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