The Invisible Backpacker of Priviledge

[Verse 1: Guante] I don’t identify as white But I identify as white enough, to get that indie rap writer buzz And benefit from, a system set up For rappers who already have advantages to get love Think about it, how many music writers are white? How many bloggers, how many booking agents? How many college radio DJs? How many publicists, concert-goers and critics got white faces? Cause you can watch 8 mile and assume White rappers got it hard, but it isn’t really true This is America, even if you’re not racist Racism’s in the foundation, face it I’m not saying white people can’t participate Obviously, I’m just saying please eliminate The myth that it’s just about hard work and lyrical ability ’cause it’s about responsibility Know the history, put people on, build community ‘cause not everyone who works hard earns it And if they ever make you a monument Scratch your name out, break it, spit on it, burn it Yo, it’s so messed up how You talk about whiteness and half your fanbase shuts down So nod your head, you ain’t got to understand us Just put your hands up, put your fucking hands up [Verse 2: Chantz Erolin] Ayo white kid, yeah, yeah, I hate to say it like this But I'm trying to help you get enlightened to having light skin Don't trip, I don't hate kids, and someone's gonna called me racist But I'm running out of patience so I gotta say this I know it's hard for you to see it conceive what it means to be me Well, not me, but be defined what society sees They say I'm the belief We post racial distill, I feel confined by police This dude called the cops on the crib the other night Saying that I robbed his wife or some dude that wasn't white Maybe Native, maybe Asian Either way, three squad cars hit my crib at 3 AM And no white boy, in no way is that your fault You may hate pigs and think their profiling is awful But understand that you would not be in that position Just for smoking on your porch with your particular pigment You got the privilege to not having to deal with your race All my relatives are off putting bleach on their face I used to wish I was white, but I'm disgusted by skin cream I was bullied and cried without knowing what chink means [?] get doubts bumping this song or humming along You've been taught that skin color means nothing at all A whiteness is considered normal and neutral You may not notice race when them white rappers do shows It's crazy in a rap show devoid of brown and black folk Hearing white kids saying words they should get smacked for This was built on the backs of our oppression Now you think it's just your raps that'll leave impressions? [Verse 3: Chris Hooks] Hands up Foolish when I'm glory tap dancing, drinking 40's Don't judge me if you do not know my story And I'd do the same, it's more than just a name, nigga Mainframe spinning like a twister knowing Most of these listeners won't understand Race and change, I guess it's time to grow up If you can't acknowledge how you get here then don't even show up The token black leaving heart attacks more righteous than my phone You speaking stories of my homies On some things they never knew, they only heard about Darker than the couch up in my mama's house My roots is deeper than these double standards so I'm speaking out Love it when we're all connected in the soda But I can't respect my brother if he can't respect my culture Moving fast like Testarosta growing up Dream in color, kid I'm in living color, all my Wayans brothers spit Hoping that my whiter color brother can relate to this If you can't we can change how bad our separation gets Preaching on the New Testament like we're in Nazareth Press love me cause I'm cosigned by my lighter publicist Knowing that we're all connected, to police I'll plead the fifth Knowing the quality in this, if you racist or you hate this You can give my ass a kiss, put some lipstick on your lips Cause I don't wanna change my color, not even a little bit In the end all I ask is you acknowledge privilege Cause I promise you, you wouldn't be popular in '96