Testo Blood - Sarah Jones
Testo della canzone Blood (Sarah Jones), tratta dall'album Lyricist Lounge Vol. 1
It is the thickest blood on this planet
The feet that slip and slide in spilled lakes
Of black blood on back roads marked with rusted dead-end signs
They don't fit into any shoes
Not Nikes, and not Reeboks
Though they make em across the sea
And sell em to you and me for fifty times their value
None of them can hold the blood that coagulated
Not so long ago in the lower extremities
Of off-color corpses strung up from trees
Like drying figs or hanging potpourri
To sweeten scenes of Southern gallantry
Before cushioned insoles and arch supports
There were feet that sank in rusted chains
And, uh, backs that cracked beneath the weight of slave names
Like Jones, Smith, Johnson, Williams, or even Hilfiger
And black butts that bore marks forever
From irons that preceded those for pressing and curling naps
Yanked straight before relaxers, weaves, and pink lotion
"Branding irons, children
Now that you've crossed the ocean, right?
Step up here, little nigga, on the
Auction block and open up your mouth
Right, good, strong teeth, good muscle tone
You ought to pick a ton of cotton
Must be worth ten dollars, maybe more
See here, ladies and gentlemen, how much can I get for
This here barely used, top of the line—"
Fast forward to Calvin Klein
And modern ownership tags for black behinds
Courtesy of Ralph Lauren, a.k.a. Lo
Lo? Well, how low can you go?
Call on black consumers if you want the cash flow
'Cause they quick to flip and spend up all they dough
Don't front, money, act like you know
We give it up to the Brooklyn malls
We give it up to the Uptown malls
'Cause the white folks figure ain't no questions for a nigga
That material possessions can't answer
Keep us preoccupied from what we wear to what we drive
While our mothers are dying of cancer
We tuck our low self-esteem into Eurotrash jeans
And overpriced shit from Donna Karan
As we toast with Hennessy to covert white supremacy
Hiding the thickest blood on the planet
We wearing it under our clothes
The way God dressed our souls
But check how the proud blood flowed through 1996
Adding fuel to the flames of some bullshit brand names
'Cause we couldn't see past the next pair of fat kicks
It is the thickest blood on this planet
The blood that sprays and spills in buckets
Soaks and stains the nightly news
But fuck it, a colored life still ain't worth but a few ducats
That blood can't be contained by any mind that cannot see
A great black forest for all these cracker trees
I'm talking about Afro-Madonna and child and child and child and child
And whoops, there goes another one
And mama don't know the answer so baby gots to guess
Oh, say, young blood, you wanna tell me what George Marciano
Ever did for a negro, a boricua, chicano?
Brothers and sisters, their pockets like blood blisters
Ready to pop, ooze, and drop cash so hot and so fast it makes a spark
"Yeah, mami, 'cause now I got my upside down triangle
My designer question mark"
Oh, why ask why that shit don't make you complete?
It's vanilla concealer for your chocolate heartbeat
Pumping the thickest blood on this planet
While we take it for granted that more Selma churches won't be bombed
More bullet-riddled bodies won't be embalmed
Another cop won't commit murder, turn around, and get a raise
While we picking over the racks from white-owned Dr. J's
To Modell's, Macy's, and Saks
Shit, they just think we ain't never gon' change our ways
And finally answer back
"No, sir, I's don't want to wear your britches
No, sir, I's don't want to grant your wishes
That all us negroes should continue to hide
In your shoes and your clothes
As if we should take pride in your savage traditions
In genocide, all the spirits you extinguished
And never batted one blue eye
Yet you're vultures on our culture like white on brown rice
Bleach our blood and sell it back, special price
On this blood that races through the African veins
Of the child on his way to the mall in White Plains
To catch a confused, lost, land-stealing Columbus Day sale
On a Fila jogging suit for his brother in jail
That blood is your blood
It's my blood, it's our blood
It is the thickest blood on this planet"
Credits
Writer(s): C. Gipp, Organized Noize, R. Barnett, T. Burton, W Knighton
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