Untitled Song

Aight, heads up: this is raw, political, 90s-coded, no fairy dust. No cartoon cops, no fake bars. Let’s go.

 

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**INTRO (Spoken, low vinyl hiss)**

West coast static, sirens in the distance

Not a threat, just a mirror

History talkin’, beat knockin’

If it sting, that’s accountability, not hate

 

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**VERSE ONE (24 lines)**

I spit case law over basslines, truth in the cadence

Badge got amnesia, memory selective and vacant

From slave patrol footnotes to modern containment

Same road, new cruisers, same fear arrangement

They call it “procedure” when the bruises look patterned

Paperwork thicker than the skulls that got fractured

Miranda read fast, rights turn abstracted

Justice move slow when the melanin’s active

Broken tail-light, now it’s felony math

Probable cause equals pigment plus past

They say “few bad apples,” ignore the whole batch

Union seals rot, keeps the stench intact

Redlining the map, then patrol where you starved us

Crime stats cooked by the routes where you parked us

Quotas ain’t written but the numbers stay marching

Stop-and-frisk lottery, odds ain’t impartial

They fear the block speaking history uncensored

So they gas the crowd, then call it “deterrence”

I rap civics class, no gun in the sentence

If this sounds like anger, nah—this is remembrance

 

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**INTERLUDE (News clip flip)**

“Officer cleared of all wrongdoing.”

—cleared like a chalkboard, erased like a name—

 

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**VERSE TWO (25 lines)**

Let’s talk language, how power brands pain

That word they threw to dehumanize chains

Now debated in classrooms, reclaimed in the street

Still dangerous in mouths that don’t carry the heat

Context matter heavy, history weigh tons

You don’t inherit the pain just by saying the tongue

They used it as policy, whip-crack grammar

Reduced human beings to capital grammar

Then wonder why trust don’t magically form

When every patrol car feel like a storm

They plant informants, then point at the harvest

Promote certain crimes, then act deeply astonished

COINTEL playbooks, community fracture

Create the conditions, then broadcast the capture

“Why don’t you comply?” like nerves ain’t alive

When the ground got names that never survived

Hands up, camera on, still a roll of the dice

Body cam blink once, truth paying the price

I’m not anti-safety, I’m anti-selective

Law should be law, not perspective

If justice was blind, why it squint at my skin?

Why punishment doubled when the shade settle in?

 

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**INTERLUDE (DJ cut)**

*rewind*

“This is for the reports that never got filed.”

 

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**VERSE THREE (24 lines)**

They say respect is earned, but demand it on sight

While rolling deep, armed up, claiming “fear for my life”

Fear been racialized, weaponized logic

Turned into headlines, rinse, repeat, profit

Tax dollars fund trauma, then therapy denied

Tell us “vote harder” while the cases all slide

Qualified immunity, god-mode cheat

While civilians get sentenced for missing a beat

The war on drugs wasn’t drugs, it was borders

Of race and class drawn by suits and orders

Same powder, different zip, different fate

One get rehab, one get booked by the state

I don’t want revenge, I want ledgers corrected

Names remembered, patterns inspected

Training that teaches de-escalation for real

Not warrior myths and a hair-trigger feel

If the shoe fit truth, let it scuff up the floor

This ain’t anti-cop—it’s anti-what-you-ignore

I end where I started, with history loud

If the system feels dissed, that’s the echo of now

 

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**OUTRO (Spoken, beat fading)**

No threats. No fantasies.

Just receipts, rhythm, and a refusal to forget.

West coast.

Truth coast.