Six Dollars

I got six dollars
3 for my rent
2 for my food
1 for my freedom
Now somethin ain't right.

So i went to my master, i meant my landlord and asked why do I pay when you beat me to live
When you gone probably use that money to buy my mother or cousin or long lost distant fiancé
Cause i really doubt if you care my well being
Why do I pay for this empty soul, I meant room cause workin for this ideal of being safe at home will probably be the death of me
You see, me sellin my soul for just a purpose that can neither be explained nor rationalized will deplete the essence of my love like repo day every Saturday in the hood.
And I'm supposed to be excited about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
My pursuit of happiness is distorted by the permanent inheritance of the poverty circle caused by the landlord because he refuses to give the money from rent back to the improvement of the degraded lives of my people
My liberty was robed like the smiles of ancestors by the very systems whose main goal is to alleviate the residents whose economic status is lower instead of uplifting the community in which the live but still have the audacity to complain about bad housing conditions.
My life has been killed because my mind still has trouble dealing with past that i was not involved in and trying to pursue a future in a place that rejects me.
But

I got six dollars
3 for my rent
2 for my food
1 for my freedom
Now somethin ain't right.

So I went to my local grocer supplier, and realized that the same thing that feeds me is the same thing that kills me.
You see me drive, passion, and over distinct purpose of being on this earth can not be fathomed unless your eyes have been in the place of people’s socket.
Cashiers wonder why we call each other words that were once use to disgrace us and tarnish the life we so carefully fell upon.
I was neither grade A, USDA approved, nor acquired by the taste of the FDA, but sold for a price that has yet to be paid off with unsubstantial interest and increase.
So I’ve been marked with the ink of the farmer, branded with the steel of the buyer, and purchased by the minds of the consumer.
The words that are used to describe the love and fraternity that I have for my fellow product will never be understood by the words that are defined in the dictionary of language.
Let alone distinguished and disguised by adjectives that betrayed us to sell us to people who misused then discarded us.
This nourishment will feed my soul for prices that are imaginable and yet intangible
The proteins will derive from the meat of dead minds that I refuse to let subside, vitamins will emerge from the remnants of ancestral rage and give me the pride to stand for more, and the iron that fuels from the depths of my body will build physical and intellectual strength to fight the ignorance that was so carefully placed around my people.
And I will feed from this deliberate speed,
But

I got six dollars
3 for my rent
2 for my food
1 for my freedom
Now somethin ain't right

So I went to my local banker just to check on the status of my intellectual finance, and realized that the last dollar I had, was saved for a concept that was lost in it origins.
An ideal that was withheld from my people like a break in the never ending poverty circle,
A place that is highly advertised by the billboards of others but a place that has no directions to get there,
An institution that would take a plan of 404 days of ingenuity and suspicious behavior to break down, destroy, and convert to the ways of my people
I, along with the like minded, have crafted such a scheme that the infrastructure of the institution would fall and crumble like the walls of Rome.
We are unstoppable.
Change is inevitable
Defeat is not a variable.
Fuck the budget
I stole my freedom
I’m using my dollar to buy sunflower seeds, the dead youth.
So

I got six dollars
3 for my rent
2 for my food
1 for my seeds
Now that’s sounds just right.