Raising Up!

When I was boy, I was cultivated as a product of my environment

A taxed accessory to my ancestors, who's blood fueled the economy of the Americas

Born in land of opportunity, but in our communities, opportunity never landed

Dreams were stranded and babies were abandoned

Some of us were blessed enough to learn from separated parents

How imperfect love worked in an imperfect world

I was birthed in it with purpose, guess I was perfect for this world

As I sat in front of that wood-grain box in the eighties

With no computer to have involvement in this culture that raised me

I felt crazy, maybe cause I had genes from different sides

Inside me was the only place Mom and Dad together resides

As I sat in that white room, ingesting commercials and cartoons