Ghetto Scarecrows (feat. Keke Andrews)

I thought my brother was paranoid... When he would tell me not to go out alone Fact is, he knew if something happened to me, I wouldn't get the dignity of a police search party He knew the sad truth in our perils Because of the melanin in our skin Regardless of our upbringing or background We could never truly live in a state of complacence We'd never...ease on down the road with blissful ignorance There will never be comfort in our safety [hunh!] I see them Ghetto Scarecrows in the field, it feels crazy Blood spilled, oppressed by the shield, they still lazy Ghosts got me riding with chrome, dying alone Speech that inspired the poems is real hazy A mother's tears spill on that grave, headlines spit on his name Convicted since our history as slaves Let that blood and ink spill on that page until this hell froze I'm in the field with Ghetto Scarecrows Blood stains magenta, crack vials, led to strained placentas Crack babies groomed for fatal winters While snow angels fall across the pavement Government-bred, my oppressors on the news, forced to make statements Squad cars are passive, abandoned on the curve, spiteful tactics Hoping their presence can detour the passage Of young Black killers, forced to develop beyond their years The tears fall on deaf ears and led to closed caskets I've seen it all through these lenses emulating Malcolm Since Ron Reagan forced his hand to regulate the talcum Contemplate the difference in hoods...Yours? metaphorically White, pinnacle at the top, views historically Is biased racism, My Hood is a statement Black ties, through these George Floyd eyes, cover our faces Hands up, but don't testify Grand juries stretch the lies See squad cars, but they never ride I see them Ghetto Scarecrows in the field, it feels crazy Blood spilled, oppressed by the shield, they still lazy Ghosts got me riding with chrome, dying alone Speech that inspired the poems is real hazy A mother's tears spill on that grave, headlines spit on his name Convicted since our history as slaves Let that blood and ink spill on that page until this hell froze I'm in the field with Ghetto Scarecrows These scarecrows say they need more brain, developing aim To infiltrate this hood of "drugs, sinners, and shame" As centers remain equivalent to COINTEL- PRO as they approach ya door, barbarians who never tell, still conflicted Saw my dad in those, bluish assassin's clothes Picture victims sat back and froze It's hard to be thankful when dark forces claim to keep you safe With no compassion through their actions 'cause we seen as apes I'm Tarzan in this concrete jungle, why stay humble? Through it all, dreams deferred and dissolved, bodies crumpled As they fumble over broken words, the corpses multiply Melanin got me forced to die Call them overseers, they in the field, scarecrows who tease us Pharisees on a road to Jesus Who would believe us? Crooked policemen, they dump and bodies rot I see ghosts in vehicles, they planted on the block And it was five years to the day...I wrote this letter, what could I say? Hit up Stew and got some classics to play Still to this day, my horror movies ain't filled with monsters Plagued with visions of cops who make friends with the mobsters Politicians who mock us, fake leaders, impostors Businesses poppin', then extort us for profit Then leave us in the field with the garbage just to float away Leave empty promises and more decay I see them Ghetto Scarecrows in the field, it feels crazy Blood spilled, oppressed by the shield, they still lazy Ghosts got me riding with chrome, dying alone Speech that inspired the poems is real hazy A mother's tears spill on that grave, headlines spit on his name Convicted since our history as slaves Let that blood and ink spill on that page until this hell froze A victim to them ghetto scared crows I would never ease through life I'd just be perceived more tolerable sometimes I would never ease through life I was just too naive to believe I wouldn't be saved because of my dark complexion I would never ease through life I just might not be in the wrong place at the wrong time yet I would never ease through life Because in a second I could go missing Beat traffic and spill blood on that yellow brick The blood splattered in contrast might be seen differently If the owner had blue eyes and blonde hair But the blood would come from a cycle of black tears I would be identified and maybe televised Just for the news to speculate what I must have done to get there My brother knew we could never ease He wasn't paranoid for knowing the cost Of a Black woman trying to be at ease