poetryintheflamesoflosangeles

[poetryintheflamesoflosangeles]

4/30/92 for Rodney King - Lucille Clifton

“so the body of one black man is rag and stone is mud and blood the body of one black man contains no life worth loving so the body of one black man is nobody mama mama mamacita is there no value in this skin mama mama if we are nothing why should we spare the neighborhood mama mama who will be next and why should we save the pictures”

[poetryintheflamesoflosangeles]

Peace Treaty - Kam

“Hittin corners in a six-trey Chevrolet Rag-top Impalla, top dollar Got my cousin Laid-Back ridin shotgun Cause I got the front-and-back hydraulic hot one Juiced up, and I'm itchin to hit the switches Crawlin over train tracks, avoidin all ditches Ice-skatin on the 20-inch tires Jack up the ass, and flex the gold dayton wires Now I'm down to take a risk Gettin geeked up off a compact disc I went hoppin up Crenshaw, n****s hang loose Lookin for my homies to celebrate the gang truce And they about to throw a cook-out So I'm puttin down the hump, we sailin on the look-out For C. H. P., I was a teenage gee So I'm readin a graffiti The walls say 'peace treaty'

Lookin at the aftermath of the riot I can still smell the ashes >From all the clashes But quiet is kept, it wasn't just the blacks Everybody was lootin, and had each other's backs We came through in understandin, demandin Justice, bust this, we all had our hand in The cookie jar, took it far enough to make a statement Daryl Gates - that's where all the hate went We pass by a swap meet Been shoppin at for years, but it couldn't stop heat See ya, wouldn't wanna be your next door neighbor Less government relief checks, more labor 10 percent blood suckers of the poor took a loss For exploitation, had to show em who was boss Teach em not to be so greedy Had to shut em down, bound by a peace treaty

Bound by a peace treaty

Hit the park, bailed out the car And seen blue and red everywhere, look how strong we are N****s showin up from this gang and that gang Nobody set-trippin, cause it's a black thing People just partyin, sippin on a cup Some of the Compton F. O. I. Even showed up Suited and booted, kickin it with the locs In unity, soon we'll be lovin all black foks I heard Solo, bumpin in a Blazer Clownin on a car phone, blowin up my pager Watts-Up is on the set Just checkin out the scenery, brothers I ain't never met Is hittin me up, I had to swallow my pride Just kept steppin, hit em up and said, "Right" Ain't no drama, cause I'm mobbin with Laid-Back I seen Big Jess, Jay and K-Mac They used to work them narcotics Like my n***a L-Wood and Renegade from the street products We used to jack from the rich, and then give to the needy But now it's a peace treaty

And now the party's acceleratin The whole crowd bounce, and sho nuff celebratin Ain't nobody bustin shots I bumped into Mike a/k/a Mo' Like Watts An O. G., cause he's older Lovin every minute of it, with the camcorder on his shoulder So he could capture the moment, and reminisce I'ma always remember this Because my n****s made the history books And now the mystery looks A lot clearer The man in the mirror Got power It's now or Never, more than ever Black people have to stick together But yo, let's hear it for the Bloods and the Crips I gots to admit it Y'all brothers did it I just hope it don't cease For the sake of all the homies that's restin in peace”

[poetryintheflamesoflosangeles]

Riot Act, April 29th, 1992 - Ai Ogawa

“I'm going out and get something. I don't know what. I don't care. Whatever's out there, I'm going to get it. Look in those shop windows at boxes and boxes of Reeboks and Nikes to make me fly through the air like Michael Jordan like Magic. While I'm up there, I see Spike Lee. Looks like he's flying too straight through the glass that separates me from the virtual reality I watch everyday on TV. I know the difference between what it is and what it isn't. Just because I can't touch it doesn't mean it isn't real. All I have to do is smash the screen, reach in and take what I want. Break out of prison. South Central homey's newly risen from the night of living dead, but this time he lives, he gets to give the zombies a taste of their own medicine. Open wide and let me in, or else I'll set your world on fire, but you pretend that you don't hear. You haven't heard the word is coming down like the hammer of the gun of this black son, locked out of this big house, while massa looks out the window and sees only smoke. Massa doesn't see anything else, not because he can't, but because he won't. He'd rather hear me talking about mo' money, mo' honeys and gold chains and see me carrying my favorite things from looted stores than admit that underneath my Raider's cap, the aftermath is staring back unblinking through the camera's lens, courtesy of CNN, my arms loaded with boxes of shoes that I will sell at the swap meet to make a few cents on the declining dollar. And if I destroy myself and my neighborhood “ain't nobody's business, if I do,” but the police are knocking hard at my door and before I can open it, they break it down and drag me in the yard. They take me in to be processed and charged, to await trial, while Americans forget the day the wealth finally trickled down to the rest of us.”

[poetryintheflamesoflosangeles]

Black Tie White Noise - David Bowie

“Getting my facts from a Benetton ad I'm lookin' through African eyes Lit by the glare of an LA fire I've got a face, not just my race, Bang Bang I've got you babe Sun comes up and the man goes down And the woman comes again Just an hour or so to be safe from fear Then we jump through hoops, we're divisible now, just disappear We reach out over race and hold each other's hands Then die in the flames singing "we shall overcome" Whoa! What's going on? There'll be some blood no doubt about it But we'll come through don't doubt it I look into your eyes and I know you won't kill me You won't kill me You won't kill me But I look into your eyes And I wonder sometimes Oh Lord, just let him see me Lord, Lord just let him hear me Let him call me brother Let him put his arms around me Let him put his hands together. Reach over race and hold each other's hands Walk through the night thinking we are the world Woa! What's going on? There'll be some blood no doubt about it But we'll come through don't doubt it I look into your eyes and I know you won't kill me You won't kill me You won't kill me But I wonder why Yes, and I wonder why sometimes They'll show us how to break the rules But never how to make the rules Reduce us down to witless punks Fascist cries both black and white, who's got the blood, who's got the gun. Putting on the black tie, cranking out the white noise (Just a fool!)”

[poetryintheflamesoflosangeles]

County Building Blues - Kendrick Lamar

“Greeting boys and girls My name is Petey P Kendrick's childhood imaginary friend (that’s right) I am your neighbor And I’d like to welcome you to good kid, m.A.A.d city So grab your cartoons and cereal Your pop guns and fireworks And sing along

When we grow up we gon go and get us a million Spend it all in front of the county building Blow it like Coltrane, blow it like Coltrane When we grow up we gon go and get us a million Spend it all in front of the county building Blow it like Coltrane, blow it like Coltrane

I’ve been waiting on this day since Dr. Dre and Pac Was on Rosecrans in that burgerstand at '95 People staring at 'em in amazement Reservations at the Days Inn We was living out a hotel at the time Breakfast, lunch and dinner chicken from Kentucky Fried Mama babysitting Section 8 vouchers the move When nothing else to lose but a burger flipping job Close my eyes inside the swap meet and imagine it's a mansion Gold ballroom, AK-47 dancing Howling at the moon, what’s a pack of hungry babies? Hope you feed us soon, bite your back, you die of rabies Everyday we pray to eat at the table at Sizzlers But never make the visit, if better days was on its way Then they make the decision, to make the wrong turn So for now we heat this skillet so this canned food can burn (Oh I remember that, it was the ravioli with the hot sauce in it, right?)

When we grow up we gon go and get us a million Spend it all in front of the county building Blow it like Coltrane, blow it like Coltrane When we grow up we gon go and get us a million Spend it all in front of the county building Blow it like Coltrane, blow it like Coltrane

And all the ghetto children in the world say, “that’s my car” All the ghetto boys say, “that’s my car” All the ghetto girls say, “that’s my car” When we grow up, when we grow up Ghetto children in the world say, “that’s my car” All the ghetto boys say, “that’s my car” All the ghetto girls say, “that’s my car” When we grow up, when we grow up

Couple stolen T.V.'s and a seat belt for my safety Played the passenger I think it’s five years after eighty Seven, do the math, ‘92 don’t you be lazy Looking out the window, notice all the essentials Of a block party that stop for a second, then it rekindle Like a flame from a trick candle, everybody got dental Insurance ‘cause we ‘bout to floss, you get that couch I sent you? I heard that from a block away, probably had credentials Of a scholar but s**t not today, them Dayton Spokes was his to take Refrigerators, barbecue pits, and Jordan kicks They did invasions while helicopters recorded it Hello Mi-Mister Miyagi, I want them Kenwood woofers Say that you got me if not, I’ll dig in your drawer for it The swap meet was the bulls' eye like Tauruses Murder was the melody you should know what the chorus is "Papa you really telling me we can just get some more of it If we run out?" He said, “lil n***a today the poor is rich Don’t tell your mom that you seen a Molotov bomb If she ask just know you have to lie and son don’t forget B*****s ain’t shit, h**s ain’t neither N****s gon snitch, watch the company you keeping And one day you’ll put money in the ghetto when you got it Rather than having to hustle off these Rodney King riots" (That’s right the mothaf****n’ Rodney King You was with your daddy on Bullis Road)

When we grow up we gon go and get us a million Spend it all in front of the county building Blow it like Coltrane, blow it like Coltrane When we grow up we gon go and get us a million Spend it all in front of the county building Blow it like Coltrane, blow it like Coltrane”

[poetryintheflamesoflosangeles]

Hellrazor - Tupac Shakur

“Major! Hell motherf***in' yeah This one goes out to my n**** Mike Coolin', hell yeah Mama raised a hellrazor, born thuggin' Heartless and mean, muggin' at sixteen On the scene watchin' fiends buggin' Kickin' up dust with the older G's Soakin' up the game that was told to me I ain't never touched a gat that I couldn't shoot, I learned Not to trust the b**** from the prostitutes, was taught lessons A young n**** askin' questions while other suckers was guessin' I was ganked for sexin' Elementary wasn't meant for me, can't regret it I'm headed for the penitentiary, I'm cuttin' class And I'm buckin' blastin', straight mashin' Mobbin' through the overpa** laughin' While these other motherf***ers try to figure out, no doubt They jealous of a n****'s clout, tell me Lord Can ya feel me? I keep my finger in the trigger 'Cause some n**** tried to kill me And mama raised a hellraizor, everyday gettin' paid Police on my pager, straight stressin' A fugitive my occupation is under question Wanted for investigation, and even though I'm marked for death, I'ma spark til I lose my breath Motherf***ers, every time I see the paper I see my picture, when a n****'s gettin' richer They come to get ya, it's like a motherf***in' trap And they wonder why it's hard bein' black Dear Lord can ya feel me, gettin' major, uh

Mama raised a hellrazor, stress gettin' major Lord be my savior, uh Mama raised a hellrazor, stress gettin' major Lord be my savior, uh Mama raised a hellrazor, stress gettin' major Lord be my savior, uh Mama raised a hellrazor, stress gettin' major Lord be my savior, uh Mama raised a hellrazor Dear Lord can ya feel me Stress gettin' major, uh Mama raised a hellrazor, stress gettin' major

Tell me Lord can ya feel me, show a sign Damn near running outta time, everybody's dyin' Mama raised a hellrazor, can't figure Why you let the police beat down n****s I'm startin' to think all the rich in the world is safe While the po' babies restin' in the early graves God come save the youth Ain't nothin' else to do but have faith in you Dear Lord I live the life of a Thug, hope you understand Forgive me for my mistakes, I gotta play my hand And my hand's on the sixteen-shot, semi-automatic Crooked cop killin' Glock, tell me Lord Can ya feel me? Show a way I'm prayin' but my enemies won't go away And everywhere I turn I see n****s burn Every n**** that I knows on death row My younger homie's seventeen and he paid a price Little young motherf***er doin' triple life Though I tell him in his letters, it's gettin' better If my n**** knew the truth he'd hit the roof Just heard ya baby's mama was smoked out, f*** the drama Wanna break my Loc out, smokin' blunts Gettin' drunk off that Tanqueray gin Bout to break my n**** out the f***in' pen Mama raised a hellrazor, uh, yeah C'mon, uh, mama raised a hellrazor Uh, dear Lord can ya feel me, stress gettin' major (Lord be my savior, uh)

Mama raised a hellrazor, stress gettin' major Lord be my savior, uh Mama raised a hellrazor, stress gettin' major Lord be my savior, uh Mama raised a hellrazor, stress gettin' major

Dear Lord can ya hear me, it's just me A young n**** tryin' to make it on these rough streets I'm on my knees beggin' please come and save me! The whole world done made a n**** crazy! I got my three-five-seven can't control it Screamin' die motherf***er and he's loaded Everybody run for cover, I cause s*** Thug Life motherf***er, duck quick Now am I wrong if I am don't worry me 'Cause do or die gettin' high til the bury me Dear Lord if ya hear me, tell me why Little girl like LaTasha, had to die She never got to see the bullet, just heard the shot Her little body couldn't take it, it shook and dropped And when I saw it on the news I see busta' girl killin' 'Tasha Now I'm screamin' f*** the world, in the end It's my friends, that flip-flop Lip-locked on my dick when my s*** drop Thug Life motherf***er I lick shots Every n**** on my block dropped two cops Dear Lord can ya hear me, when I die Let a n**** be strapped, f***ed up, and high With my hands on the trigger, Thug n**** Stressin' like a motherf***in' drug dealer And even in the darkest nights, I'm a Thug for Life I got the heart to fight now Mama raised a hellrazor why cry That's just life in the ghetto, do or die”

[poetryintheflamesoflosangeles]

My Summer Vacation - Ice Cube

“This is the final boarding call for flight 1259 Departing from Los Angeles final destination to St. Louis Thank you

Damn G the spot's gettin' hot So how the f**k am I supposed to make a knot? Police looking at n****s through a microscope In L.A. everybody and they momma sell dope They trying to stop it So what the f**k can I do to make a profit? Catch a flight to St. Louis That's cool, cause nobody knew us We stepped off the plane Four gang bangers, professional crack slangers Rented a car at wholesale Drove to the ghetto, and checked in a motel Unpacked and I grab the three-eighty Cause where we stayin', n****s look shady But they can't fade South Central Cause bustin' a cap is fundamental Checkin' out every block close Seein' which one will clock the most Yeah this is the one no doubt Bust a you Bone, and let's clear these n****z out

Hey hey man, whats up n***a? Yo, well this Lench Mob n***a!

Now clearin' 'em out meant casualties Still had the L.A. mentality Bust a cap, and out of there in a hurry Wouldn't you know, a driveby in Missouri Them fools got popped Took their corner next day, set up shop And it's better than slangin' in the Valley Triple the profit makin' more than I did in Cali Breakin' off rocks like Barney Rubble Cause them mark-a*s n****s don't want trouble And we ain't on edge when we do work Police don't recognize the khakis and the sweatshirts Getting b*****s and they can't stand a Nineteen-ninety-one Tony Montana Now the s**t's like a war Of gang violence, where it was never seen before Punks whirl when the gat bust Four jheri curl n****s kickin' up dust And some of them are even lookin' up to us Wearing our colors and talkin' that gang fuss Giving up much love Dyin' for a street, that they ain't even heard of But other motherfuckers want to stand strong So you know the phrase, once again it's on

Top of the news tonight, gangs from South Central Los Angeles which are known for their driveby shootings Have migrated into East St. Louis Leaving three dead and two others injured No arrests have been made Police say this is a nationwide trend With similar incidents occurring in Texas, Michigan, and Oklahoma "If it can happen here, it can happen anywhere"

Boom, my homie got shot he's a goner black St. Louis n****s want they corner back Shooting in snowy weather It's illegal business, n****s still can't stick together Fuckin' police got the four-one-one That L.A. ain't all, surf and sun But we ain't thinkin', bout the boys Feudin', like the Hatfields and McCoys Now the s**t's gettin' tricky Cause now they lookin' for the colors and the khakis Damn, the spot's gettin' hot from the battle About to pack up and start slangin' in Seattle But the NARC's, raid about six in the morning Try to catch a n***a while he's yawnin' Put his glock to my chest as I paused Went to jail in my motherf****n' drawers Tryin' to give me, fifty-seven years Face'll be full of those tattooed tears It's the same old story and the same old n***a stuck And the public defender ain't givin' a fuck The fool must be sparkin' Talkin' about a double life plea bargain You got to deal with the Crips and Bloods by hand G Plus the Black Guerilla family And the white pride don't like Northside And it's a riot if any one of us die No parole or probation Now this is a young man's summer vacation No chance for rehabilitation Cause look at the motherf****n' years that I'm facin' I'ma end it like this cause you know what's up My life is f**ked”