Can’t I be a black man

Not smoke blunts,

Drink forties, and sell rocks on the block while holding a glock

And displaying negative, stereotypical behavior

Call women queens

And not bitches and hoes


AND have flavor!?

The more I try to get my rhyme on

The more something goes wrong

Can’t complete on damn song

And be satisfied

The more I try

The more I regress

The words I manifest

Don’t move people

Or they can’t get with it

Do I have to go against everything I stand for

To get my career off the floor?

Get my foot in the door?

Give them what they’re looking for?

Do I have to sound profane?

Act insane?

Call a woman out her name?

To achieve success and fame?

If I called a woman a Queen

Would I sound lame?

Can I be me, truly be me, and make it in the rap game?

Now, I believe I can make it work

But at times I feel like a jerk

‘Cause my support is always cut short

Fat beats, fresh lyrics is what I have

But I feel they place me last

After typical music that they grasp

I have to gasp for air

‘Cause I feel suffocated

By a slew of rappers who are overrated

While I’m underestimated

For my turn

I’ve waited and waited

If I was holding my breath

I would have died of asphyxiation by now

At times, I ask myself

“Why do I do this?”

And I’m clueless

On how to get through this

Now, I always manage to pull myself out the rut

And kick myself in the butt

And learning more and more

To go with the feeling in my gut

But ‘cha know what?

Me manifesting my dream

Is still stressful

The question still remains . . . . . .

Can I still be me, truly be me,

And be in rap and Hip Hop

And become successful?


Written by: AC Mikell-Awesome/AC Wolf, Sept 1997