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Child of Earth (A President’s Rap Song)

Child of Earth (A President’s Rap Song)


Intro: Birth

Child of earth
A bundle wrapped in blankets
Guarded by a mother’s arms
Your face was gazed by strangers
Heads were bowed, prayers were made
And they gave you a name

Oh shit my nigga
You child of earth, my nigga
What song will you sing
if you become president?
How many fathers will
you call back?
How many fatherless will u forgive?

“They are often the kinds of kids that are called superpredators — no conscience, no empathy. We can talk about why they ended up that way, but first we have to bring them to heel.”

— Hillary Clinton (1996, Keene College, New Hampshire)

What song will you sing
if you become president?

Will you pimp a butterfly?
will you put me on display?
Will you tell Teagan her hair’s too bushy?
Will you dome a nigga for being a nigga today?
Will you put a chain around a nigga
and tell him he will be okay? (Donald Williams Jr.)
Will you hold up Keisha in a stretch?
Your hand conveniently behind her head
No one knows Keisha
And Keisha knows no one

Will you shackle a nigga for cashing his dough
Too much dough for a rapper nigga to own?
Back to back with Mr. Blac Youngsta
James Blake, you know how it goes
What you sing about when you become president?

Oh shit my nigga
I’m back at it again
Nigga hold up, can we talk about
generational wealth?
Can we talk about how they put
these butterflies in a box
No loans and no assistance,
no mercy and no attention
Black butterflies always segregated
I’m sorry if we don’t look too colorful
to your unpoliced imaginations
You marginalize our kind
Replacing father figures for gang leaders
Compromising the truth, preaching:
the blacker the berry the bigger you shoot

“Generational wealth? 
Bless your head, you make it to 21!”

What song will you sing
if you become president?

2016: February 24th, Charleston, USA.

In a private residence in Charleston, South Carolina, Ashley Williams steps out of the crowd, towards presidential candidate, Hillary Clinton, during a speech, holding a white banner with her infamous words:


“We want you to apologize for mass incarceration,” says Ashley Williams.
Hillary Clinton, “Ok, we’ll talk about it.”
“I’m not a superpredator, Hillary Clinton.”
Hillary, “OK, fine. We’ll talk about it.”
“Can you apologize to black people for mass incarceration?”
“Well, can I talk? OK, and then 

maybe you can listen to what I say.”
Ashley, “Yes, yes, absolutely.”
“OK, fine. Thank you very much. There’s a lot of issues, a lot of issues in this campaign. The very first speech that I gave, back in April, was about criminal justice reform…”

A man appears beside Ashley. He tries to gently usher her away.
“You called black people predators,” Ashley interrupts again.

The crowd, “Woah, woah…”
 Hillary, “You’re bring rude.”
“You called black people superpredators. That’s rude.”

A voice in the crowd, “That’s not appropriate.”
“That’s rude,” Ashley reiterates.
Another voice, “You’re trespassing.”
“I know that you called black youth superpredators in 1994.”
“You’re trespassing.”
Ashley, “Please explain your record. Explain it to us. You owe black people an apology.”
“Excuse us, that’s inappropriate please,” and more sounds of disapproval from the crowd.

Hillary, “Well, I’ll tell you what, if you will give me a chance to talk, I’ll — I’ll tell you something.” A second man comes and begins to pull her away. “You know what? Nobody’s ever asked me before. You’re the first person to ask me, and I’m happy to address it, but you are the first person to ask me, dear. Um, OK, back to the issues.”

Oh shit my nigga

Child of earth, you bad
Child of earth, fill your hands with soil
Grasp it and don’t forget the feeling
That’s the feeling of life and truth
You’re all made from the same dust
This is you, this is me
And everyone we lost
Jonathan I’m sorry about your mom
As long as the earth is covered in soil
Your message will be important
Because you’re one of the same dust
Someone oughtta call you up
Kdot you said, first album, first track
Everybody put your hands up high
Color of our skin ain’t no matter of fact

“Now I don’t give a fuck if you
Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, goddammit
That don’t mean shit to me
Fuck your ethnicity, nigga”
— Kendrick Lamar, Fuck Your Ethnicity, Section. 80

We bleed all over these colored lines
Don’t be afraid homie, 
chin up, young blood
Child of earth, what song will you sing
when you become president?

Dedicated to my friend, Jonathan Ishengoma. God bless your heart, brother!


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