I was feelin a little jazzy ya know, dancin the jig up and down the Chicago streets,
while the other races sit and watched, stealin my rhythm, my heart and soul from my feet.
My jazz, my life thats all I had,
well at least I thought.
I was feelin a little blue,
ha, I got somethin new.
Bring back memorise like mom, dad and myself sittin out on the patio,
listenin to the oldies, on the radio.
Waitin on the barbecue, ready to eat,
bringin out the sun brewed ice tea.
Oh, turn it up B.B King, playin Lucille, pluckin them strings.
Then America and abroad stole, and cheated.
Now the "Thrill is Gone", and I don't have a song, in my heat to sing.
I'm loosin myself, but in order to make a come back I have to come out of retirement, gettin off the shelf.
Like a boomerang, I will, regain, my once bootlegged soul, its amazin how blackness as whole,
Is so, captivating theirs nothing, more intriguing then an, educated African Soul.
Everyone wants to be me, whether they want to admit it or not,
They know who they are, like Allen Iverson where ever theirs an opening they'll take that shot.
They want our hair, because of our forever changin and forever growin style is simply unfair.
They love our walk, but you could never go a mile in our shoes, all you can do,
is talk, even then you want that slang, when will it end like a slow movin never endin train.
What else do you want I have nothin else to give,
but a life I'm tryin to live, like the gold, of Africa,
you've stole, my soul, but no matter how old,
I get I will continue to fight for my life, my stolen souls.
When in the world did you, white america start havin the blues,
everything you have, everything you've stole, everyone you've used.
I ask again, when did you, start havin the blues.
But like Joe Louis and Muhammad Ali, I refuse, to loose, because I have swing,
like Harlem had the Cotton Club, tryin to do my thing.
As darkness of the club starts to fade, guess whose in the, center, of, the stage.
Dang who whitened the scene, I can't even see me,
no longer existing, like the Spinx, every essence of blackness is slowly being chipped away,
until their is nothin left and wrong will be accepted as okay.
Now theirs rap, spittin off the top of my domb, Kinda feels like a
I'm lookin at the next generation losed and confused, everyones at their ends like a fuse,
as soon, as its ignited things will blow, and there will be our stolen souls at the end of the road.
If we're not careful, Our Stolen Souls.