The Bitter Truth

Intro:
They will lead by example
To influence the youth
They will prosecute the innocent
To find an excuse
They will silence every voice that even dares to accuse
If you don’t see it, then you’re blinded, but I see the bitter truth

Verse 1:
He wakes up in the morning
Papa setting out the dishes
Good Morning America from the TV in the kitchen

Brothers banging on the bathroom door
Sisters got it occupied
"Give me five minutes"
Trying to compromise

He makes it to the kitchen smells the food on the stove
Gets his greetings from his parents, such a courteous tone

Siblings running down the stairs
So they can eat as a family
They grab each others hands and thank the lord for his majesty

Sitting at table, eyes glued to the screen
News report interruption, coming directly from the scene

“Reporting to you live where a teen was shot
Authorities unaware if he was armed or not.”

But pops was not surprised
This happens all the time
He couldn't blame the cops
They just want to stop crime

Siding with the cops, making excuses for them
But he knows better than that, it’s just the pigment of their skin

Hook:
Are you quick to judge?
Is everything what you thought it was?
Will we disagree like Crips and Bloods?
Will you hold steadfast, or will you budge?
Are you quick to judge? Are you quick to judge?
(What you think you see) Are you quick to judge?
(What you’re afraid to be) Are you quick to judge?
Are you quick to judge? Me? Me

Verse 2:
He wakes up in the morning
Momma cooking in the kitchen
Smell of breakfast, irresistible
Robert Palmer's Addictions

The radio blaring, momma screaming "turn it down"
But Just A Friend is fresh, please let the song play out
1989, and he's still tryna see what life's about
Had a rough patch when he was young his pops walked right out

The man of the house, just moms and his sister
His uncle barely come around, the only father figure

Monday mornings always rough
He has to get dressed for school
Even his pair of Troops are hand-me-down’s from Uncle Bo
Classmates are cruel
Momma’s working double shifts
Just to trade food stamps, for money to buy gifts

Before class he always stops at the corner store
Tryna cop some skittles
Sees some cops he's never seen before

They eying him, like he committed mortal sin
But he knows better than that. It’s just the pigment of his skin

Bridge:
Disoriented, blinded by pure hatred
Degrading race by the act of segregating
Undertaking the same assignments of our fathers
And the fathers before them
Condemning the human race from which a few people stem
Understand that I am not one of those few
I will physically fight family members who share those ideas and views
Ignorance is taught, though it’s less potent than it’s ever been
I refuse to be the one to judge by pigment of someone else's skin