Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Niggers Niggas & Niggaz

I could not be in more agreement with this poem.  Julian Curry spoke truth and we all need to hear it. Transcript below the fold.

What's up my niggas? I said what's up my niggas?  That was a trick question and it's nice to see that most of the tricky ones have not tricked mot of y'all into the answer.  You see niggers been passed through most our families generation to generation like cancer.  It used to be said by slave masters who weren't in the business of breeding no dancing niggers.  They only wanted good ole field niggers but I wonder how the field nigger would feel if he was sitting next to me on the A train at approximately three o'clock any day of the week.  And he heard his little great great grand son speak dozens if not hundred of times from 59th street to west 4th the word the made black families pack up in the south the move north?  Would he slam  a couple of the these boys against the doors and ask ,what's the deal nigger, do you think you're keeping it real nigger?  Do you know how I was killed nigger?  They murdered me with hot rod of steel nigger,  Now how do you think this makes me feel nigger?  Or would he just sit there and listen, silently like white people do, silently like I do, silently like we all do?  So what do I do, I go down to wall street. Do you know why they call it wall street?  Because centuries ago there were these huge high walls and down on the street there were these slaves with shackles on their feet, were there to be bought and sold by the fleet like shares of intel.  Phrases shouted daily like, where's my niggers, there's my niggers, whose niggers are those.  Here we are centuries after slavery, insulting our ancestors bravery, by shouting phrases daily like where's my nigger, what up nigger, you know you my nigger right.  Don't blame the boys from the A train, blame the men who put the myth that it was okay to say it in their brain.  Blame the kings of comedy the all time nigger record holders.  Put the blame on (inuadible) brothers, on Quentin Tarantinos shoulders.  Hopefully this nigger, nigger, nigger poem is making you uncomfortable to the point where you are cracking your neck and staring down at the ground, looking to your left and your right to see if there is any white people around.  Helping you realize that you have been bamboozled if you think that you have to wear a black face to be a clown. But I gotta go now, I gotta go now, I gotta go now  I gotta get this poem in the hands of the artist formerly know as Prince because when it comes to talent ain't no body better and maybe this poem can be the gun and its voice can be the trigger and we can collaborate and figure a way to convince jigger to help us find a new dream song, a new theme song and call it the people formerly known as niggers .


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