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A Name Brand Nigga



When I see you – I no longer see beauty

And its reflection… just the perception of a people

Treated less than a blessing…

“Just look at you!!!”

Grimy complexion; tarred skin –

The color of darkness and imperfection…

Thick, dry lips – callaced palms and fingertips…

Addressed as the nigga you are…

Because the king in you is intervened by the nigga that stands afar.

Midnight eyes – with a gleam that seems to drive the dreams of a nation insane…

You stand as the complaint of a thousand years of torment and pain.

Dangerously in love with who you’re not…

Within the complexion of your reflection lies your plot:

A dark Prince of a Black King, but…

Somewhere in between – time arrested your development,

And you forgot.

Prison song tears – sang in fears of knowing your history…

Slave ships and scarred backs from Massa’s whip…

Or have you forgotten all that?

Now you’re pushing new whips – modern day slave ships on concrete…

Projects – modern day plantations built in bricks.

See, the tricks were designed for trade,

Therefore, your soul was confiscated in the process…

Now the thought of your self out of the projects is thoughtless…

You thought less of your dream,

At least Martin Luther’s it seems…

With your gold rings; yet tarnished perspective –

With the objective to inject your tainted-ness

Into the thousand plus years of struggle

To be thankful-less – with your shameful hustle…

And tatted muscle –with a branded ignorance…

See, you used to be just as Black as me,

But now you’re just a name brand nigga…

Two hundred dollar fit,

But 2 cent-soul:

1 for the people who slaved for your freedom;

1 for those you killed…

See, I remember when you were just as Black as me…

But this mirror has spilled an image that reflects the truth.

And it’s been revealed,

Cause now I’m remembering when I was just as Black as you.





Tha Prodigal One…