Freedom, culture, history.
I wear my locs not as a fad/ but Iím glad to be cultured.
I donít need another personís hair in mine/
to fool the blind/ when I have my own kind.
Iím not white/ so why does my hair
have to be burned into submission to be right?
What is forgotten is the truth/
that every culture has had happy roots/
the bible even makes mention in Numbers chapter 6.
Just like the numbers of brothers and sisters
that take the vow to let go of the instruments/
that depict how black we canít seem to be anymore.
Like the Shiva, I now mourn.
Not everyone understands the reason/
some just doiní it for a season/
I need to have my mind free/ my head clear/
my heart opened for the ones scopiní.
My antennas of truth/ the roots that GOD produced/
not Revlon or Dark n Lovely/
Iím naturally happy to be nappy.
Sorry I donít have European straight hanginí down my back/
I like the attention My locs attract.
The natural beauty of a sistah on duty/
with caramel skin/ a serious smile/
an open mind/ and simple style.
I ainít knockiní the artificial crew/
with fake nails, hair and attitude/
I just like to be true to who I was born to be/
expressiní my heritage naturally.
Natural is comin up strong and fast/
perms and weaves are runniní out of gas.
Some in the black community are finally seeing the truth/
straight hair, low cuts, synthetic strands of contraband
are now being replaced with tight balls of curls/
thick wavy swirls and cords that stretch out roots of life.
I wear My locs to express my interest in the history of my culture
and to represent my journey to freedom from THEIR prototypes.