Well, one peom deserves another. I dedicate this to those who burn down black communities numerable decades after the last time a mob of rampaging whites did so anywhere, to those who harm their neighbors (in many cases their own kinfolk) who do no one any harm but now have to face reduced prospects because their jobs may be going away ⌠again.
And yes, I not ashamed of who the apology is to, contrary to how heâs used by modern culture Uncle Tom was a longsuffering innocent whose proverbial heirs, or at least a few of them, have done his literary abuser proud. He was no traitor, but those who run amuck in their own neighborhoods are.
Weâre so sorry, Uncle Thomas,
Weâre so sorry if we caused you any pain,
Weâre so sorry, Uncle Thomas,
But thereâs so few fathers left at home and I believe it was a plan.
Weâre so sorry but we havenât learned a thing at all
Weâre so sorry, Uncle Thomas
But if anything should happen weâll be sure to blame whitey.
Weâre so sorry, Uncle Thomas,
But we burned down our own neighborhood today.
Weâre so sorry, Uncle Thomas,
But the rhetorics on the boil and weâre so easily swept away.
Hands across the hood,
Fists raised to the sky,
Hands across the hood (hood)
Fists raised to the sky!
President Obama notified me,
If he had a boy it would look just like he,
I need no other look for its any excuse for me,
So I ran with it!
Ran with it?
Who needs the truth when thereâs a narrative, see?
Hands across the hood,
Fists raised to the sky,
Hands across the hood (hood)
Fists raised to the sky!
Live a little grab a copâs gun,
Get around (get around),
Try to take him in his car,
Live a little be a star.
Live a little grab a copâs gun,
Get around (get around),
What you did just doesnât matter,
With that little we pound the ground.
Hands across the hood,
Fists raised to the sky,
Hands across the hood (hood)
Fists raised to the sky!