2018 Slave

CATEGORY

life

Wilhelmina: The Year 1818
With nighttime here it’s finally calm enough to get some peace,
the way that things are going it’ll be hard to get some sleep,
my back hurts from a day spent picking cotton in the heat,
still I must nurse my young’n ‘cause the chillun gotta eat.
 
I pray that there’s enough to keep him passive when he snooze,
I pick the cotton yes but nurse the massa’s chillun too,
that white baby gets hungry and will suck until I’m dry,
some days I feel like he gon’ use me up until I die.
 
They sold my man the other day; my husband matter fact,
so many Negro chillun run around here lackin’ dads,
and mothers too in some cases but slavery’s the life,
I’ve known since I was born until the day I see the light.
 
My baby’s started crying ‘cause my breast is empty now,
ain’t nothin’ left to feed him so he’ll cry on anyhow,
What kind of God allows these things amongst His human beings?
It might not last for long; I wonder what the future brings…
 
Kaisha: The Year 2018
I wish this fool would hurry up; go ‘head and get his off,
all slobbin’ on my breast; he fin’ to suck my t1tty off,
but money’s money when these thirsty n1ggas pay to play,
this $50 I’ma make gon’ surely save the day.
 
The fridge is h3lla empty; wonders never cease to me,
my moms said I’d regret it when I sold my EBT,
to get some cash and go out wit’ my cousins to the bar,
we caught a cab to get us there although it wasn’t far.
 
Now here go little Daveon out in the evenin' room,
he’s hungry; it’s a good thing that my company’s leavin’ soon,
I’ll walk down to the corner store; I have to feed the son,
A bowl of Ramen Noodles and they got ‘em three for one.
 
My welfare should be goin’ up; I guess it never ends,
‘cause yesterday I found out that I’m pregnant yet again,
I know just who the father is; the courts will get it right,
for now I’ll put on Facebook how I live my bestest life.
 
Think about it.