The Black Man's Burden

Bitch Please,
Nigga Please,
Ghost please,

This stuff needs to be passed down,
To our progeny.

If weren’t a beat poet,
A dirty white meat poet-

I might not have the lyrical chops,
I might not have the musical props,

To lay down the rhythm,
The one thing that’s still alive in this town.

Down town,
Old town,
Sweaty man town,
The dark man’s town,
The white man’s
Burden.

His over burden,
His under burden.
His tailings,
His gangue.

Who rocks the mic?

I rock the mic.

But who rocks the mic?

God rocks the mic.