Sticks and Stones

My daughter’s first word was «bitch!»
She said it kinda low
Her moms got mad I said, «I'm glad it wasn’t ho»
Both of them are hurtful I know she don’t even know
She just heard some people saying it and we just let it go
That’s not a true story
But it could be, I could be a father with dilemmas
If I had a lil Emma or a Crystal or a Hollis or a Blue
And she called herself a bad bitch
When she was only two
Am I a bitch nigga? My wife a nigga bitch?
We was walking down the street, her backside kinda switched
And this dude driving by with his crew inside the whip
Yelled a phrase that I said in the past, it had me sick
He said, «Yea I’m looking at your bitch ass nigga
She got a fatty, what you gon do? Bitch-ass nigga!»
You know how many times I seen a thick ass chick with
Her man walking by and thinking I could hit that quicker? I’m rude
So when this dude said it I was stunned
My girl was unaffected, I wished I had my gun
I stood there for a second, she gave me a hug and as I watched them
Drive off laughing I felt bugged
Now back to you
Your son says nigga and he’s only six
Your nine-year-old just called her teacher a bitch
Kevin Hart says it, you don’t even flinch
Paula Deen says it, now you feel like Willie Lynch
Who’s Willie Lynch? This ain’t a history lesson
I’m not here to try to convince you, I just think it’s depressing
That when a rich nigga wants you and your nigga can’t do nothing for you,
these hoes ain’t loyal, we sing with aggression it’s like
Sticks and stones break bones but
Sticks and stones break bones but
Sticks and stones break bones but
Sticks and stones break bones but
We be dying over words
Words are sounds that we give extra strength
The past that we lived makes our present tense
Slavery made economic sense
So when I use to say nigga I guess I was on the fence
It’s vital so I’m thankful for the cycle where my moms cramps
Allowed her to give birth to my strong rants
And now you seeing me leak my freedom of speech
It’s creepy that Drake can say nigga but his moms can’t
Maybe that’s unfair
Maybe what I’m saying is just going in one ear…
And sliding out the other
Words you call a random chick you wouldn’t call your mother
What if we replace the N-word with brother?
Or king or beloved I just think I had enough of me riding the fence with it
I’m getting intense with it, on songs they censor it
We all so sensitive
Jay-Z/Oprah interlude
Beat switch
I’m tired of saying nigga
I’m tired of getting mad if somebody else says we niggers
I’m tired of trying to make up the rules so we can figure out if it’s
Ok for someone to say it
I know Jay said it’s cool if we use it, we changed it, I get it
Racism’s the issue, and the nation is dismissive
And Kendrick came with the knowledge that its origin is royalty and hopefully
we take the whole connotation and switch it
But sometimes I hoop with Caucasians on the court
And when I say, «You fouled me nigga!»
I get caught
Giving extra thought
If he said it back then we probably would’ve fought
It would be his fault
I’m tired of seeing memes saying, «niggas be like»
And «bitches be like,»
It’s a sickening sight
But I always read 'em and sometimes I laugh
The president’s racial background’s combined with half
Of whiteness
As I write this
I find my path
Being conflicted, like I’m curing the symptom and not the sickness
Understand the analogy
Like you get rid of the sneeze
Without attacking the allergy
So the problems keep occurring when you treat 'em so casually
And the brown people become a casualty
Maybe I’m racist, prejudice kinda
Cause I had a white girl offer head and vagina
But we went to see Django, switched my whole angle
Left the movie theater like, «You devil and liar I hate you»…
I said, «I'm just playing,»
But maybe I’m for real a little
I’m just saying
You want something serious, this is a dumb statement
But my family would throw me up under the bus station
The old heads, aunts and uncles would call me stupid
And my black friends would throw mad shade
Shade is useless
Since you’re pale girl, you need the sun, I’m being foolish
Look, I promise I don’t care about them, but see the music
That we listen to it’s filled with stereotypes
If I play «Niggas in Paris» and you hear it, get hype
And say, «I love this song!» and you spit it precise
But you can’t say the title, if you did I’d be tight
I can’t marry you, I’m scared of you, and shawty I am brave
How can we watch The Help or Twelve Years a Slave?
Without me wanting to hit you
I promise you I got issues maybe I just really need to be saved pray for me