歌手:Logic
专辑:《Young Sinatra》

作词 : Logic
作曲 : Logic

I am not a poet,
I am just a designer of words
Architecting sentences the way I form and merge
Paragraphes together that force MC's to submerge
With an urge,
To break free of this bi-racial jail cell
Feast on my memories,
Please come and taste this
Papa was a black man,
Mama was a racist
Growin' up she called me *****,
Kids called me cracka'
While the whites got whiter,
And the blacks got blacker
I was hurtin,
Doin' everything i can
Conceived as a white boy with the soul of a black man
God damn,
Looking up to Malcolm X
Studying his speeches and underlining text
How can i be white devil if my parents has ***
'Cus i'm black and i'm white
And i'm proud of every word that i recite
I know my roots,
I know my past
I know the issue of my race ain't gonna last
Yo, we all breathe the same air
And bleed the same blood
And when we die,
The same dish gets douved

"I still have a dream,
It is a dream teached within the american dream,
That one day,
This nation will rise up,
Live out the true meaning of being free.
Behold these truths to be self evident,
That all men are created equally."