The New KKK

by Christopher J. Holmes

Iím cryiní on the inside
Sick and tired of seeiní
Brothas dyiní
And mothers crying
At their babyís funeral

Lord please donít take him
And asking why
As tears of sorrow stream from
Her pretty brown eyes
She tries to hold it together
Thinkiní Ďbout how heíd be around forever

She says lord this ainít right
He was supposed 2 bury me
So how is it that Iím stariní
At his cold lifeless body
Laying in this casket
The truth ainít hard 2 find
If you just donít mask it

Homeboy lived that thug-life
Knife in one pocket
A glock in his back
Looking 4 somethiní 2 go down
Lookiní 4 a chance 2 clown 
And act a fool
Never afraid of the white man
Just another black dude
That looked like him

You know the one with the saggy jeans
Three sizes too big hooded sweat shirt and loose laced
Timbs he begins to mock the images he sees in rap
Videos forgettiní who he owes
Spending all his money on chains and rings and rims and
Teeth made of gold he told his homeboys
Nigga Iím packiní and stackiní my cheddar 
Hell life donít get no better than this 
Bought my first bottle of Chrystal, owwww!

You see Iím doiní big thangs!
Just dropped fifteen hundred dollars on 
This here pinky rang, niggaahh. 
The bible says there are ways that seem right 
Unto a man
And itís a shame he didnít understand that everytime
He took down another brother he was killiní part of himself
But he was quick to blame everyone else for the way he lived
His life
Saying he couldnít sleep at night
With all these thoughts going through his head and his own 
Mama said
Youíre gonna end up dead 
Just like your father

Itís funny how self-defeating prophesies become
Reality very quickly
Ever so quickly
As the bullets rang out from the car driving by 

One to the chest and one to the eye
In his own blood he laid forgetting
All about the life he slayed just 2 weeks prior

His mother says Iím getting sick and tired
Of this boy, then the phone call came
Police saying her sonís been slain
At the hand of another black man
Only 16 years old, yíall


This storyís old and been told a thousand times 
In a thousand rhymes that
Black on black crime doesnít pay yet

It seems everyday another young man is laid to rest
Got rappers like Fifty-cent wearing bullet proof vests to protect
His chest 
From the life killers and dream stealers
Coming his way because
Even heís afraid of the New KKK!!

A black face killing his own race
Wearing the sheets that used to be occupied by the white man
But the white hand no longer holds the gun and
Itís a shame that after all this time
We still havenít learned how to turn a
Negative into a positive, so for this cause my life I give.


The New KKK by Christopher J. Holmes

© Copyright 2005. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.



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