A black brother shoots another again with no remorse
Like clockwork the community reacts silently
No outcries, no protest, no backlash, no distress
Just a t-shirt and a balloon releasing.
Bloodshed solutes to nothing but a cell
First class reservations into hell
A funeral and heavenly halos
A jumpsuit and regrets.
Black baby don’t praise the false notion
That bloodshed makes you reputable
When the gavel bangs, due to evidence so indisputable
And you’re just a statistic in a broken system
It’ll make you regret inner city bloodshed.