| They been playin' a different game these days man
|
| It’s the long game, pay attention
|
| When they come for you
|
| They won’t have their guns
|
| Confidently etched out from the cold of their holsters
|
| They know now that this world is photoshop ready
|
| To digitally document their death squad tactics
|
| That their antics
|
| Are now archived, videoclipped, and facebook status
|
| Set to go viral even though our protests and proof are never enough fire
|
| To burn their house to ashes
|
| Our death, our death sometimes pins medals on their chests
|
| And allows them to retire with sizable paycheck
|
| But nonetheless, we fight back, the best we can
|
| So understand now, that when they come for you
|
| They startin' at the foundation, at your doorstep
|
| They will be dressed as developer or realtor or hipster
|
| Your best 90's hip hop playing
|
| From their boombox on your block
|
| Dressed in your latest fashion
|
| Appropriately, appropriating your culture till they fit in
|
| Till they move in
|
| But then the police traffic rises
|
| And the crime seems to drop
|
| Property tax rises around big momma’s old house so much
|
| That her fixed income ain’t enough income and now she forced to move out
|
| Of the house she lived in for the last 30 years
|
| And raised two generations of kids, but it is what it is, ain’t it?
|
| The neighborhood got more Volvos and less Chevy’s
|
| Candy-coated painted because now
|
| Well now your street is so charming and alarming, ain’t it?
|
| The sight of your neighbors being shipped out
|
| Handed hollow vouchers to move to a place unfamiliar
|
| This, this be the new slave ship
|
| Go ahead, go ahead and visit the new cool kids on your block
|
| Tell them the story of the haunted trap house
|
| Where the ghosts of dope boys still shed tears
|
| How you tried to get the city to tear down this nightmare for the last three
|
| years
|
| Won’t you tell them how, the deferred dreams of high school hopes
|
| Would sit on its porch waiting
|
| To snatch the soul from whoever walked by
|
| Still looking for a way out this hood
|
| The same hood that holds the street corner
|
| The same corner your cousin died on
|
| They repaved it and renamed it something expensive
|
| Something you can barely afford to stand on this block
|
| Don’t feel like it used to
|
| Now the folks next door call cops on you when your friends roll through
|
| It’s strange how things don' changed around you
|
| Hey, they call this progress baby
|
| When they come for you
|
| They will say it’s for the best
|
| To clean up the mess
|
| They will call it restoration
|
| Wanna free you from the mortgage or that rent
|
| And give you a new destination
|
| They sellin' you false emancipation
|
| Wanna reshape your school and call it reeducation
|
| Now add a new word to your vocabulary young blood
|
| It’s called gentrification |