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  •  I see no changes. Wake up in the morning.... (0+ / 0-)

    And i ask myself,
    "Is life worth living? Should I blast myself?"
    I'm tired of bein' poor and even worse I'm black.
    My stomach hurts, so I'm lookin' for a purse to snatch.
    Cops give a damn about a negro? Pull the trigger, kill a nigga, he's a hero.
    Give the crack to the kids who the hell cares? One less hungry mouth on the welfare.
    First ship 'em dope and let 'em deal to brothers.
    Give 'em guns, step back, and watch 'em kill each other.
    "It's time to fight back", that's what Huey said.
    2 shots in the dark now Huey's dead.
    I got love for my brother, but we can never go nowhere
    unless we share with each other. We gotta start makin' changes.
    Learn to see me as a brother 'stead of 2 distant strangers.
    And that's how it's supposed to be.
    How can the Devil take a brother if he's close to me?
    I'd love to go back to when we played as kids
    but things changed, and that's the way it is

    I see no changes. All I see is racist faces.
    Misplaced hate makes disgrace to races we under.
    I wonder what it takes to make this one better place...
    let's erase the wasted.
    Take the evil out the people, they'll be acting right.
    'Cause both black and white are smokin' crack tonight.
    And only time we chill is when we kill each other.
    It takes skill to be real, time to heal each other.
    And although it seems heaven sent,
    we ain't ready to see a black President, uhh.
    It ain't a secret don't conceal the fact...
    the penitentiary's packed, and it's filled with blacks.
    But some things will never change.
    Try to show another way, but they stayin' in the dope game.
    Now tell me what's a mother to do?
    Bein' real don't appeal to the brother in you.
    You gotta operate the easy way.
    "I made a G today" But you made it in a sleazy way.
    Sellin' crack to the kids. "I gotta get paid,"
    Well hey, well that's the way it is.

    And still I see no changes. Can't a brother get a little peace?
    There's war on the streets and the war in the Middle East.
    Instead of war on poverty,
    they got a war on drugs so the police can bother me.
    And I ain't never did a crime I ain't have to do.
    But now I'm back with the facts givin' 'em back to you.
    Don't let 'em jack you up, back you up, crack you up and pimp smack you up.
    You gotta learn to hold ya own.
    They get jealous when they see ya with ya mobile phone.
    But tell the cops they can't touch this.
    I don't trust this, when they try to rush I bust this.
    That's the sound of my tool. You say it ain't cool, but mama didn't raise no fool.
    And as long as I stay black, I gotta stay strapped and I never get to lay back.
    'Cause I always got to worry 'bout the payback.
    Some buck that I roughed up way back... comin' back after all these years.
    Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat. That's the way it is. uhh

    Tupac 'Changes' 1992. Still relevant.

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