mandingoedit

Inspired by my frustration with the viral exploitation of black bodies online at the hands of black folk themselves

The fists go up
Two black boys to prove their manhood and give the crowd a show
The show of their lives, for its the only life they know

He think he hard, he think he hard
two’s too many when there’s only room for one
bloodshed paints the sky, the battle has begun

And the phones go up and the phones go record
The sights and sounds of the bones crushing, people cheering
His precious life and his precious death nearing

Back to the present, blast from the past
Yesterday’s battle, same old thing though
Same black people though, same fighters Mandingo

But do we know?
Slaves owners made us fight, brother on brother
our bloodshed, our deaths for the entertainment of another?

My brother, my brother
Put your fists down, sit down and listen
Stop killing each other with your fists and your Pistons

Living the slaveowner’s dream while he’s sleep 6 feet under
Wake yourself up, wake up your mind
From a slumber that should have ended well before 1865

My people, my people
Put the phones away
We can’t afford to entertain the masses with enslaved minds another day

Mandingo
Two black boys to prove their manhood and give the crowd a show
The show of their lives, for its the only life they know

Mandingo

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