Talking to My Dad

How much you need? Four fingers
Peruvian flake. Red Head Mexican
Got the beer — hit the fuckin jazz festival
We don’t eat the fake ass grapes with the seeds in them
I seen castles in Russia built by Moors
Africans: got castles in England
But they won’t tell you that
We know what we know, but we can’t tell you about our history
They act like we radical;
I ain’t never been a jiggaboo, my black heroes are me and you
My mind fucked up
This the reason why I see it: I’m a king
I made white, latino, and chinese — alladat
You heard of the African River, the silk worm?
You know where we came from?
The Russian language is Black
You say who I am
I know who I’m not
That Black man from Africa and we migrated
The Russian language is US!
We had a child with a Russian woman —
The son of Black, the Russian language
People wrong, they need to shut up
You think I got an ego? Nah, it’s just us
Working on my knowledge of self
The real man is leaders, hunters, educators
The real men are leaders and educators, hunters
I got knowledge of self now, talking to my dad, the only man I trust now
I came from the skeet. It ain’t a race war because we don’t compete
I got knowledge of self now, talking to my dad, the only man I trust now
I came from the skeet. It ain’t a race war because we don’t compete
It’s Lil B