Authors: Tracy Brown
Criminal Minded (12 page)
the wise man
1993
I got comfortable in my new home and I found myself loving
my newfound freedom. I no longer had a curfew, no father waiting up for me until the wee hours. No more rules. I was grown and I was with Lamin. I had never been happier. While Lamin was in the hospital, my duties were limited. But by the time he was discharged, things changed quickly. Lamin was walking with a cane, leaning heavily on his right leg—his good leg. Somehow he made that shit look fly, and his walk was still gangsta. He was pretty bad off, though. So I tried to do all I could to help him. But soon he grew frustrated and started insisting on doing more and more things for himself. Lamin and his stubborn pride. At first, I insisted on doing everything no matter how much he told me not to. But there came a point when our relationship was under pressure because Lamin wouldn’t let me help him. Still, I refused to stop trying. I gave in when he persuaded me to enroll in college.
my newfound freedom. I no longer had a curfew, no father waiting up for me until the wee hours. No more rules. I was grown and I was with Lamin. I had never been happier. While Lamin was in the hospital, my duties were limited. But by the time he was discharged, things changed quickly. Lamin was walking with a cane, leaning heavily on his right leg—his good leg. Somehow he made that shit look fly, and his walk was still gangsta. He was pretty bad off, though. So I tried to do all I could to help him. But soon he grew frustrated and started insisting on doing more and more things for himself. Lamin and his stubborn pride. At first, I insisted on doing everything no matter how much he told me not to. But there came a point when our relationship was under pressure because Lamin wouldn’t let me help him. Still, I refused to stop trying. I gave in when he persuaded me to enroll in college.
I had given up on any college hopes. My father had cut me off since I had defied him. Gone was my trust money and college tuition. I was on my own, and Lamin could no longer hustle. I had no idea how we were going to make it. But it seemed I had underestimated the length of Lamin’s paper, because he surprised me one evening with tuition for four semesters plus money for books and
college clothes! I was off to the stores as soon as the sun came up.
college clothes! I was off to the stores as soon as the sun came up.
So I enrolled in Brooklyn College and majored in Business. Zion hired a nurse for Lamin for a few hours every day. I saw less of Olivia, Veronica, and Audrey. But my focus had shifted exclusively to making a happy home with Lamin and studying hard to prove something to myself. And perhaps to someone else as well.
I must admit that even though my love for Lamin was real, what fueled my relentless pursuit of success was my thirst to prove my parents wrong. They had doubted Lamin and doubted my love for him, and now they were holding my college education as collateral. I hated the fact that they would put me in a position to choose between the man I loved and my education. I would graduate. I was determined! And Lamin and I would show them!
I had mad love for Lucky. I really did. She was beautiful with her pretty brown Asian eyes, long hair, long legs, and killer body. She had brains to match and our conversations were always just as stimulating as our sex. But when she moved in, I realized what a big step that was. It was great having her sleeping beside me at night and being able to snuggle up with her. It was fabulous to be able to wake up at 2:00 A.M. and fuck her brains out and go back to sleep. But some things about the new living arrangement were getting under my skin. She was sharing my closet space, insisting that I put the toilet seat down, bitchin’ because I didn’t squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom to the top. The shit was gettin’ on my nerves. I sat in the house day after day, trying to come up with ways to occupy her time, so that I could focus on getting myself back on my feet. I hit the nail on the head when I asked her if she wanted to go to college. She was happy and so was I.
I found myself enjoying my time at home alone while Lucky was at school. I knew the entire television lineup by heart. No need for a TV guide. I watched all the talk shows—Ricki, Maury, Jenny, Jerry, Regis—and I became a professional couch potato. Some days that
shit was alright. But most of the time, I sat around depressed that I was the only one whose life had come to a complete standstill. While I had a nurse coming by to help me do shit I used to be able to do for myself, Olivia was hustlin’ and gettin’ money with Zion. I knew that she was doing it for me, but I still felt useless. Lucky had school. All I had was the damn remote control. I was gettin’ tired of sitting around like a burn.
shit was alright. But most of the time, I sat around depressed that I was the only one whose life had come to a complete standstill. While I had a nurse coming by to help me do shit I used to be able to do for myself, Olivia was hustlin’ and gettin’ money with Zion. I knew that she was doing it for me, but I still felt useless. Lucky had school. All I had was the damn remote control. I was gettin’ tired of sitting around like a burn.
One day in particular, I was feelin’ pretty fucked up about my useless legs. I could walk if I used my cane, but fuck that! I was in my twenties, not my sixties. I didn’t want no cane. I wanted to walk and stand on my own two feet. Papa called, and to my surprise he told me he was on his way to see me. I was thrilled and found myself anxious to see him. Since I had moved out of Papa’s house, I hadn’t seen him much. I was on the grind, and I didn’t want Papa to know how heavy I was in them streets. But once I got shot, there was no more hidin’ it.
Papa hadn’t visited me too often while I was hospitalized. Grandma had visited mostly on Sundays, and Papa had usually been upstate visiting Curtis at those times. I was happy that Aunt Inez and Papa had continued visiting Curtis in my absence, but I missed my grandfather. His conversations were just what the doctor ordered. When he finally pulled up, I hobbled over to the door, opened it, and stood in the doorway as he parked. I popped a Percoset in my mouth to ease the pain that I still felt in my back and forced a smile as Papa made his way up the stairs.
“Hey, Lamin.” Papa was smiling, and he seemed as happy to see me as I was to see him. I knew that I was his favorite grandchild. He didn’t have to tell me, I just knew it was true. We shook hands firmly and hugged briefly as he entered the house. Papa looked around. “I see Lucky is keeping the place nice!” he said. He looked at the fresh flowers Lucky had put in Afrocentric vases strategically placed throughout the apartment. Large oil paintings hung on walls that had been bare before Lucky moved in. A circular, knitted throw rug was now covering the hardwood floors in the middle of the living room. The shit looked like a picture straight out of
Better Homes and Gardens
.
Better Homes and Gardens
.
I laughed. Lucky was the biggest neat freak. She was a perfectionist and always had to make sure everything was in its proper place. The shit drove me crazy! But it was nice that Papa noticed how well kept the place was. Drastic difference from when it was my bachelor pad. Papa handed me two bags. One contained a big helping of Papa’s delicious banana pudding. I loved that shit! Whenever he made it, I would drive to Staten Island to get some. The other bag contained a liter of Hennessy. I smiled when I opened it. Papa knew that was my favorite.
“Don’t be drinkin’ that when you’re on all that pain medication,” Papa warned. I thought about the Percoset I had just taken for pain, but I poured us both a drink, anyway. We got comfortable on my brown leather sectional and I began to tell Papa how glad I was to see him.
“Lucky is too much sometimes,” I explained. “I know I’m kinda messed up right now. I can’t walk too good and sometimes I be in a lot of pain. But I like to do for myself. I ain’t used to nobody feedin’ me and dressin’ me and all that mess.” I was making a conscious effort not to cuss in front of Papa out of respect.
He nodded. “Women like to take care of people,” Papa said. “Think about it. They take care of babies, they take care of old people. Most of the nurses in hospitals are women! If you go to a real woman’s house, she will ask if you want somethin’ to drink or if you want somethin’ to eat. She’ll ask if you’re comfortable, she’ll offer to do whatever she can to make you feel at ease. That’s just their way. Your grandmama gets on my nerves with that shit, too!”
We laughed. Papa lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke. “But one day, you’ll appreciate all that care taking. It’s a lot of no good women out there who would let you hobble your wounded ass to the refrigerator and get your own shit!”
Papa had a point. I realized that I did appreciate Lucky. I had a good woman and I made a mental note to tell her she was a blessing to me when she got home. “I’m just sick of feelin’ helpless,” I admitted to Papa. “I’m a man with pride and I feel like a cripple.”
Papa sipped his drink and nodded again. “Let me tell you a story,” he said.
Any other time, I would have cringed at the idea of listenin’ to another one of Papa’s fuckin’ stories. But I missed him and missed our conversations so much that I got comfortable and smiled. Papa had my undivided attention.
“When I was livin’ in the South growin’ up, we didn’t have no Pathmark or ShopRite, no Waldbaums like you got now. We had town stores. Little markets where you could get your meat, eggs, bread, and all that shit. Well when I was a young man, oh, I guess about ten or eleven years old, I got me a job in the town store. I had so many brothers and sisters that we all had to work—either sharecroppin’ or doing somethin’ else to bring some money in the house to help out. My job at the town store was to do minor errands. Sweepin’, moppin’, stockin’ shelves, that kinda shit. The owner of the store was a white man named Mr. Washington. Mr. Washington didn’t care too much for colored folks, but he wasn’t as bad as some of the whiteys were down there at that time. He gave me the job because he felt that my parents were ‘good colored folks’ and he knew I would work hard.
“I did work hard, too. I took that job serious. But I was still just a ten-year-old boy with a lot of energy and I would run through the shop sometimes. Instead of walkin’ to get the mop, I would run to get it. Instead of walkin’ to the storage room, I would run. And Mr. Washington would always tell me stop runnin’. ‘Stop runnin’ around here, boy!’ And I would just keep doin’ it. One day, Mr. Washington was waitin’ on a customer and I went runnin’ past. Mr. Washington had enough. He yelled at me and said, ‘BOY! If you run through here one more time I’m gon’ fire you!’
“I stopped dead in my tracks, took off my apron, and handed it to Mr. Washington. I looked him dead in the eyes and said, ‘Well, fire me now. ’Cause I’ma keep on runnin’!”
Papa lit another cigarette and I sat trying to figure out how that story related to my lack of mobility. I was frustrated that I could hardly walk, and he was telling me a story about him gettin’ fired for running around a store. Papa smiled, like he knew I was confused.
“The point I’m tryin’ to make is don’t let your physical setback
stop you from succeeding. You keep on runnin’, son. Keep on runnin’ and don’t let nobody or no disability keep you from movin’.”
stop you from succeeding. You keep on runnin’, son. Keep on runnin’ and don’t let nobody or no disability keep you from movin’.”
That shit was hot. I wondered how Papa found the perfect story to tell at the perfect time. I nodded. Now I understood.
Papa refilled his drink. “I told you once that you can’t do all that hustlin’ forever. I was in the streets, too, at one time. I had to stop when it was time for me to be a father. Now you have to make the same decision, Lamin. You coulda died. But you didn’t. And now you got a second chance to live your life. You got money, I can see that. You got a beautiful young lady in your life, and she’s making you a happy home. Stop the bullshit, Lamin. It’s time for you to get up out them streets and figure out what you want to do with your life.”
He was right. “I don’t wanna work for nobody,” I explained. “I wanna start my own business.”
Papa smiled. “Now you’re talkin’. You got the money to do it. Now you gotta have a plan. What kinda business you wanna start up?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t wanna run a store or nothin’ like that. I wanna do somethin’ big. Like run my own corporation.”
I expected him to laugh at me. Most people did whenever I mentioned my goals to them. I wanted to be a millionaire before I turned thirty. I wanted to be the CEO of something big. I wanted the lavish lifestyle of the rich and famous. But rather than laughing, Papa seemed to be thinking and then he spoke. “When you were growin’ up, what did you always tell me you wanted to be?” Papa asked me, smiling proudly.
I thought back. It had been so long since I had really focused on my past dreams and career goals that it took me a minute to recall. I smiled at the memory. “A movie director.”
Papa puffed his Pall Mall. “Yup. Why don’t you start there? Find out how you can get your foot in the door and then handle your business. You know your grandmother and I will do anything we can to help you, Lamin.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate that, for real.” I was happy to finally
have something I could set my sights on. I was glad my grandfather had stopped by that day. “You’re a very wise man, Papa.”
have something I could set my sights on. I was glad my grandfather had stopped by that day. “You’re a very wise man, Papa.”
Papa smiled, shook his head. “I’d rather have wisdom than be wise,” he said. “Any slick serpent can say wise things. But a man who has wisdom is worth his weight in gold.” Papa raised his glass as if he was proposing a toast, and I leaned forward and clinked my glass against his. We both sipped our brandy and sat back and enjoyed a wonderful conversation that afternoon. I loved that man. It was then—at that very moment sitting in my living room, sipping brandy with my grandfather—that Shootin’ Crooks Productions was born. I named it in honor of my grandfather’s hustle, and the story he told me about his life so long ago. I decided at that moment to put a plan together to get out of the game. But first, I needed Olivia and Zion to sell a few more bricks and make a few more trips so that I could do the shit right.
the hustle
September 6, 1993
Lamin,
Thanks for the package you sent me. That was right on time, cousin. Word. Lucky tells me that you’re walkin’ with a cane now. I’m just glad to hear that you are walking at all. I’m also glad to hear that your boy, Zion, handled your business for you with the niggas that shot you. If he would have been on point like he was supposed to be, you wouldn’t even be going through this shit right now. You know you never would have got shot if I would have been home, right? We always had each other’s back. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to have yours this time. Make sure Zion knows I wanna holla at him.
On another note, I think the idea of Olivia getting her hands dirty is bad. Put an end to that shit, La. Olivia is my baby cousin, and I don’t want to see her get too far ahead of herself. And she’s gorgeous. Half the guards in here and the niggas in my dorm was scoping her little body. I almost had to crack a few niggas jaws in the visiting room. Watch her, Lamin. Keep her on a tight leash. I don’t wanna have to hurt somethin’ when I get home.
Tell my moms I love her and kiss Grandma for me. Tell Papa I want a peach cobbler when I get home. You know I ain’t for
all this writing letters and shit. So hurry up and limp your lanky ass up here. A nigga miss you and shit.
all this writing letters and shit. So hurry up and limp your lanky ass up here. A nigga miss you and shit.
One love,
C-
P.S. Tell Uncle Eli I never got them cigarettes he promised me. Good thing I wasn’t holding my breath.
I spent every day researching the ins and outs of the film industry. I wanted to be bigger than Spike Lee. Bigger than that new guy—the
Boyz N the Hood
nigga—John Singleton. I had big plans. And I had the dough to make them happen. But how? How could I get my foot in the door to make a film when I had no degree, no experience? I spent a lot of time pondering these questions to the point that I almost drove myself crazy from frustration. Zion came by one afternoon in November, and I welcomed the distraction.
Boyz N the Hood
nigga—John Singleton. I had big plans. And I had the dough to make them happen. But how? How could I get my foot in the door to make a film when I had no degree, no experience? I spent a lot of time pondering these questions to the point that I almost drove myself crazy from frustration. Zion came by one afternoon in November, and I welcomed the distraction.
He was fresh off a trip to Baltimore, and he brought my share of the money. I didn’t even bother to count it, since I knew I could trust Olivia and Zion to the utmost. But I
had
started noticing some strange behavior. Zion had been spending more time out of town than usual since Olivia started doing my runs with him. When me and Zion made trips to B-More, it was for an overnight visit at most. But Zion and Olivia had just spent three days away, and I wondered if they thought I was too preoccupied to notice. I wasn’t. I had nothing but time on my hands and plenty of time to think. I wondered. Would Zion ever cross me and fuck with my little sister?
had
started noticing some strange behavior. Zion had been spending more time out of town than usual since Olivia started doing my runs with him. When me and Zion made trips to B-More, it was for an overnight visit at most. But Zion and Olivia had just spent three days away, and I wondered if they thought I was too preoccupied to notice. I wasn’t. I had nothing but time on my hands and plenty of time to think. I wondered. Would Zion ever cross me and fuck with my little sister?
Could Olivia be so naive that she wouldn’t recognize Zion’s game? As grown as Olivia was, she was still my baby sister. I would have been upset, to say the least, to find out that Zion had added her to his stable of women.
Zion told me that Olivia was tired and she had gone straight home when they got back to New York. I didn’t hesitate to put my concerns
out there. “So what’s up with you and Olivia spending all these days in Baltimore?” I asked. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you two was fuckin’ or somethin’.”
out there. “So what’s up with you and Olivia spending all these days in Baltimore?” I asked. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you two was fuckin’ or somethin’.”
Zion’s facial expression showed that he was stunned. He looked at me for a few silent moments and then said, “Nah, Lamin. You got a hell of an imagination. Me and Olivia was selling bricks not knockin’ boots.” Zion’s laugh was uneasy, but I told myself that he might be right. Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe I was paranoid.
“Well, just so that you know,” I said. “If you
were
fuckin’ my sister, I would have to fuck you up. She’s only nineteen, and she don’t need a nigga like you breakin’ her heart.”
were
fuckin’ my sister, I would have to fuck you up. She’s only nineteen, and she don’t need a nigga like you breakin’ her heart.”
Zion nodded. “You don’t have to worry about that, Lamin.”
Zion sparked a fat blunt filled with purple haze. We got our smoke on and discussed how him and Olivia were flippin’ them ounces like hotcakes. Things were going well. Zion now had two cars, and I was squeezin’ stacks of dough into my safe on a daily basis. But I was still frustrated, both by my lack of a way to get my dream off the ground and by my inability to walk without that fuckin’ cane! I still hadn’t shared my plan with Zion, partly because I really didn’t have a plan at that point. All I had was a dream.
“Some days, this house feels like a fuckin’ prison, Zion. For real. These walls feel like they’re closing in on me sometimes.”
Zion shook his head as he inhaled the weed. “Nah, La. Ain’t nothing as bad as prison. Nothin’ compares to that shit. Word.” He passed me back the blunt. “Ask your cousin. I’m sure he would pay to trade places with you right now.”
I took a toke and listened to Zion’s saga.
“Lamin, them niggas try to strip you of all your fuckin’ dignity in there, man. Seem like they enjoy strippin’ you naked and tellin’ you to part your ass cheeks. Wakin’ you up in the middle of the night, tossin’ your cell. That shit is the worst.”
I took another toke. “Niggas act like that shit is appealing, though. So many of ’em go back to jail over and over. Makes you wonder why they keep fuckin’ up like that.”
“’Cause once you do a bid of more than a year, they got you in here.” Zion pointed to his head. “They got your mind and when you get out, subconsciously you’re still in jail. You get used to being on a schedule for the rec room, the phone, for meals. You get used to a do-or-die mentality, and then you come back to society, and they tell you to blend in. Forget all the madness you witnessed behind bars. Forget all the fights and the rules and the mayhem. Just blend in. That shit is impossible.”
As Zion puffed the blunt, I thought about what he was saying, my mind cloudy from the haze. I found myself deep in thought wondering what atrocities Curtis was seeing in prison. Zion made it sound like a horror movie, and I guess at that point I had never allowed myself to really think about what Curtis was up against each day. I wondered if he would go the same route as countless others and become a career inmate—a repeat felon doing bid after bid, spending the majority of their adult lives behind bars. I also realized for the first time that the group homes and institutions Zion had been raised in and caged in had contributed to his reckless attitude.
I got lost in my thoughts for a moment until Zion passed me back the blunt. Despite the fact that I was already high, I smoked some more—hoping to block out my cousin’s misfortune. But Zion was far from done.
“I saw a lot of shit when I was locked up, Lea.” Zion paused. Nodded his head. “A lot of shit. There ain’t no such thing as friends in jail. No such thing as peace. No freedom, no dignity. So even though you can’t walk without that cane. Even though you feel frustrated … this shit ain’t nothin’ like prison.”
I was eager to change the subject. “I’m thinking about getting out the game,” I said. “Getting shot up, losin’ a kidney, seeing all the shit I’ve seen … I’m feeling like it’s time to do something better with my life.”
Zion stared at me for a long time. His eyes were heavy and his lids were low, courtesy of the weed. But we sat staring each other in the eye for a long while.
“Get out the game and do what, La? Work nine to five for a couple hundred a week? While we’re sittin’ here now—smoking weed and
drinkin’ forties—we’re making thousands in them streets, nigga. Get out the game for what?”
drinkin’ forties—we’re making thousands in them streets, nigga. Get out the game for what?”
I laid my cards out. “I wanna start my own business. I got a lot of paper from them streets, and, instead of blowin’ it or waitin’ for the feds to seize my shit, I wanna put that money to good use and start a film company. I been researching the shit and I can pretty much cover all the expenses. Equipment—I’ll buy some. Film crew—I’ll pay somebody. I already submitted paperwork to trademark the name of the company, I got a logo and all that shit. Now all I need is clientele.” I looked Zion in the eyes once more. “But I’m getting out this game. And so should you.”
Zion continued to look at me for a while. Then he looked away. When he turned back in my direction, he had a grin on his face. “Lamin, all I know is this game. Ain’t nothin’ else I wanna do. I ain’t never had no other dreams, no goals. Just to succeed in this game. That’s all.”
I nodded. I understood him. I felt his pain, and I could see why he saw no other route. No other alternatives. But
my
mind was made up. “I feel you,” I said. “But this hustling shit was never my final destination. It was always a means to an end for me. A temporary solution to my fucked-up problems. But this shit ain’t long term for me. I ain’t tryin’ to retire from these streets when I’m old and gray. That shit don’t happen like that. Zion, if you keep hustling, all you’re gonna wind up doing is more time in that same prison system we were just talkin’ about.”
my
mind was made up. “I feel you,” I said. “But this hustling shit was never my final destination. It was always a means to an end for me. A temporary solution to my fucked-up problems. But this shit ain’t long term for me. I ain’t tryin’ to retire from these streets when I’m old and gray. That shit don’t happen like that. Zion, if you keep hustling, all you’re gonna wind up doing is more time in that same prison system we were just talkin’ about.”
Zion shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Lamin. I ain’t never going back to jail.”
When I looked in his eyes I could tell he meant that shit. Zion wasn’t bullshittin’. I knew he meant every word he had just said.
“Then let’s do what we gotta do to go legit.” I was trying to persuade Zion to see things my way.
He shook his head. “Nah, that’s not for me,” he said. “I’m gutta and I’ll always be gutta. But you got dreams and you should chase ‘em. I got your back on that. In fact, let me put up some money, and
you can consider me a silent partner or whatever. I don’t want to do no business work or nothin’ like that. Just let me share in your profits. I know that whatever you do, you do it big. So if this is going to be as big as I think it will be, then I want in.”
you can consider me a silent partner or whatever. I don’t want to do no business work or nothin’ like that. Just let me share in your profits. I know that whatever you do, you do it big. So if this is going to be as big as I think it will be, then I want in.”
Zion extended his hand and I gave him a pound. It was official. I was beginning my exodus from the game. But first, I spent a few hours chillin’ with my best friend.
Prisons and Projects
They’re caging us in prisons and projects
Confining us on Indian reservations
Delaying our progress
Entrapping us in concentration camps
Keeping us uneducated, poor, and jobless
Silencing us by confining us
To prisons and projects
Confining us on Indian reservations
Delaying our progress
Entrapping us in concentration camps
Keeping us uneducated, poor, and jobless
Silencing us by confining us
To prisons and projects
They’re planning our demise through platinum and diamonds
Filling our imagery with visions mindless
Enticing us to spend on the clothes in which we dress
Yet the time we spend with our children is becoming less and less
They’re manipulating us like pawns in chess
Once a powerful nation we’ve somehow digressed
Into inmates and residents
In prisons and projects
Filling our imagery with visions mindless
Enticing us to spend on the clothes in which we dress
Yet the time we spend with our children is becoming less and less
They’re manipulating us like pawns in chess
Once a powerful nation we’ve somehow digressed
Into inmates and residents
In prisons and projects
They’re killing us with lethal injections
Poisoning our minds with ill-given directions
Coaching our daughters to accept disrespect
Training us to depend on food stamps and WIC checks
They’re distributing propaganda, distorting the truth
Blatantly stunting the growth of our youth
Misinforming us with lies blinding us with ignorance
Deafening us with the noise of their own belligerence
They are teaching our children to follow the same path
Teaching them violence and hatred instead of science and math
Not equipping them to do battle with the authorities
Teaching them that all they can be are minorities
They are infiltrating our homes taking over neighborhoods
Poisoning our minds with ill-given directions
Coaching our daughters to accept disrespect
Training us to depend on food stamps and WIC checks
They’re distributing propaganda, distorting the truth
Blatantly stunting the growth of our youth
Misinforming us with lies blinding us with ignorance
Deafening us with the noise of their own belligerence
They are teaching our children to follow the same path
Teaching them violence and hatred instead of science and math
Not equipping them to do battle with the authorities
Teaching them that all they can be are minorities
They are infiltrating our homes taking over neighborhoods
They’re hunting us down like deer in the woods
Depriving our people of substantial opportunities
They’re pumping AIDS and plagues into our communities
Protecting themselves with diplomatic immunity
One may ask what exactly should we do with these
Institutions of unspoken indignities
That are often referred to as prisons and projects
Depriving our people of substantial opportunities
They’re pumping AIDS and plagues into our communities
Protecting themselves with diplomatic immunity
One may ask what exactly should we do with these
Institutions of unspoken indignities
That are often referred to as prisons and projects
Whose idea was it to create
These identical complexes surrounded by gates?
Affordable housing is the wolf in disguise
Which they use to mask their plans for our demise
Ever notice that we are raising generations
In these institutions that hold back the Black Nation
Have you figured out yet that it’s all part of the plan
That was masterminded and carried out by The Man
To ensure that we would never escape our shackles
Every step forward is conquered and tackled
They’re limiting our choices, diminishing our prospects
By keeping us caged in prisons and projects
These identical complexes surrounded by gates?
Affordable housing is the wolf in disguise
Which they use to mask their plans for our demise
Ever notice that we are raising generations
In these institutions that hold back the Black Nation
Have you figured out yet that it’s all part of the plan
That was masterminded and carried out by The Man
To ensure that we would never escape our shackles
Every step forward is conquered and tackled
They’re limiting our choices, diminishing our prospects
By keeping us caged in prisons and projects
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