Black Future - Akua Naru

For gods and mortal men

Women, children, niggas, bitches, and distant kin

Jehovah witnessed him, door knock for immigrants

Plymouth Rock layin' pillagin'

Manhunt for the blood of the Rankine 'Citizen'

Been held, caught, still bought, from Earth to Mae Jemison

Orbit out of order, foreign daughters esteemed lineage

Sun, stars, Venus, Mars, Morse codes written in my North node

'Cross the moon, longitude ecliptic shit

Journey been the flame, canary cage, long sentences

Feet weary, the pain of war between me and my bitterness

Still in line with picket signs, the fast cars, the picket fence

Wilson pickin' at your number nine, pickin' cotton off the find

Because the fro flat on the one side

Learn to laugh so you don’t cry, a spell cast with closed eyes

When the math never add up, a dollar surely hard to come by

Ugh, my goodness, ugh

For the billy bad-ass brother, outcast, the tough guy

For color girls when they’re able to know at sunshine

The chip on your shoulder for dues and tongue-tied

For broke, ailin', hopeless, magnum opus, stunning

For those the skin black, it’s pointed late in the night sky

A lunar eclipse, a grimace, glimpse the world shift, a sunrise

An ancient future rich between hips, thighs

Take this dandelion, go make a wish for the old pie

Fuck the slice shit, the piece of cake, pecan praline spikes

Casket, 99s, my cousin got life for three strikes

Since twelve been in the system, sixteen bars of heat like

That twenty-one is gon' make me run like kids before the streetlight

Colt .45, call me baby girl, try to maintain, find peace, right?

Man’s world, any place for a nigga like me, it seems like

We’ll freeze like, it’s a state of mind, not a state of mine, for me and like

Hello?

Junior?

Junior?

(Black fu—)

Junior?

H-hello?

(Fu-fu-fu-fu, bl-bl-bla-black fut—)

(Black future)

Hello?

Uh, my British friends call me wicked, either I’m evil or lit with it

Funkiest George Clinton, fruit punch locks, fresh twisted

Giovanni eagle trip, double dutch skippin'

Ride flow so intense, you need PornHub to fuck with it

So ever get my nose stuck, I smell gods shittin'

Squat on that Farrakhan, Solange, Chimamanda, Tricia

My minimum be common sense to a go-getter

Gold diggers dig my prose and pose for the old picture

Third inscription, Rosetta Stone, so go figure

Spend a lifetime tryin' to get free like Denise Williams

Dead pressed, bike ride in the breeze, chillin'

For my people, I go off Benita over Miss Jenkins

The counterfeit disappear soon as the cold hit 'em

Bomb the geniuses I clone, time signature goal-tendin'

Rosetta Tharpe finger pick, harmonic note bendin'

Train bound for glory, folklore absolved the coke dealer

For saints sendin' singers off key and on Tinder

Freddie Mercury retrograde, too real for great pretenders

For dream defenders, sister soldier, winters colder

we were young, dumb, innocent and loved once

Do you remember?

Do I remember?

(Black, black, black fu—fut-t-t-t—)

(Black future)

Uh, uh, may I forever be a menace to my enemies

Pray the death be nothin' less than the final scene of Misery, uh

Last laugh terrorist, the broadcast, the chariot

Two sphinxes, my right hand breedin' valerian

Keep my fist balled till one of you wanna touch my hair again

American, yard call for soft candidates

For Alex, Kizzy, Fiddler, Chicken George, Kunta the Gambian

For refuse sought that brought Nina Simone to Liberia

For Good Samaritans that to bury them

The racketeer that stole years, shoulda, coulda, the terrier

Malformed, the black limbs limp, the posterior

Forever could make your heart here, we feel when you were here with us

Uh

For those church shoes and wooden pews, the breeze in the vestibule

Jesus show up, show our Sunday best, he on schedule

Used to wonder, «Were we left behind, did he forget us?»

Mama said, «Don't question the Lord, you open doors for the Devil, boo»

That chicken grease on deck, the old jaunt to the left of you

Black as fat back salt pork, the seasoned vegetables

Cholesterol level a stress, believe gon' get the best of you

Precious is breath, neck poised, it’s clear, Huxtable

For the trauma on my sleeve, those haunted by memories

For chief, lords, folk in between, tribal wars

called to intervene, guns drawn

The burned cross, the six degrees separated

Those torn, blood that pours

Tears that run 'cross the wound, the sore

The bruise, the blues chord

The muse in the dark, the Me Too, that

For Tirana Burkes, Rosa Parks, for things that fall apart

Conflict of the, there’s a space kept, a floor swept

A future for you right now