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?
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