The Last Straw (Part Two Thousand)

[Various voices in crowd]
I need a dollar-- need to hit the stall to call the mall. Anybody can give it to me - y'all or y'all or y'all. Put it down next the wall and I'll holler holler. C'mon y'all or y'all, all I need is a dollar. Need to hit the stall to call the mall. Anybody can give it to me y'all or y'all...

...naw man, the cops shot some homeless black dude

Hey Gudder, you got pot?

...I guess I'm not shopping today...

...what's happening on? Is it Kwanzaa or something...

...I wanna feel like I belong to something…

See, white people keep on puttin all their shit on us, dumpin sinful stuff, lettin it rust. Now we're covered in a ring of trash. They hear us singing and claim they're discoverin how to be human beings. But I don't match their theories. I could speak clearly, but they'd never listen to me they can't hear me. So bring it back now down past Lincoln ashes. They be on some ring of trash shit. The upper right side of the screen is just a dumpster. That's it! And television wants to show my black ass with a head of a monster. It's partly tied to opposites. Police sketches just reflect the dark side of the populous. Man this shit's apartheid, I should just...

...and then it spread to white and got everyone's undivided attention...

They had a big boat for a cruise. And a whale jumped over the boat, and he was blue. And he didn't flew. He only jumped and then, you know what? Um... I thought of something else. The people were surprised. They thought he was rude, but mom, he was just being himself!

..but I'm a little scared, cuz I don't really know how time works. When it comes down to it
I hope that I'm first. My rhymes burst with the way I feel for you, the way I'd lie, cheat
Beg, borrow, steal, for you keep it real for you when you give me the right smile if you
Want me too I'll change my lifestyle I'm stuck on you but I'm not gonna free my hand
You're the type of woman make a boy...

Hip-hop hip-hop, everybody hip-hop. Just got the producer here in this shop. Fuck that other Bastard's here and it's hot. Yes ya'll -- we're down with the real, the real...

...impossible, impossible...

...and at that time my wife was in the hospital...

...we've reached the death of the metanarrative, end of the line. Now it's "sampled", circling, cycling line segments of time...

...hovering over the benches, no you know, them new ones you can't sleep on, yeah them blue ones...

...I wouldn't, maybe you would, I don't know maybe you couldn't, I don't know but I could but I wouldn't...

...the part that's frightening./ What's hard is/deciding that you never/start a fight. Well we already/ tried. That's how my father/ died, and it wasn't worth/ it. Plus it doesn't/ work cuz I hurt half a/ dozen jerks tryin to jack/ my cousin's shirt

...working with a totally lame gun dude, and he stroked so hard his hand became numb, dude

Who?

That one dude...

...your own little slice of life one for each one of us, blue pie and everyone gets a piece...

No justice, no peace

[Speech: Revolvr]
Brothers and sisters..
Brothers and sisters...
Brothers and sisters, I give up
You can tell the government I've had enough
This game isn't fun anymore so that's it
Ladies and gentlemen, I quit
Man, cuz they shot him—
Wanted to get him off of the bench, and they got him
Couldn't tolerate so awful a stench
But he's rotten now and he still smells foul
Six feet from the bottom he was still too proud
So they lynched him. Yes-
Because of his race
They rinsed him with the blood from a hole in his face
He lay still, but they still put him in his place
Still Black Taking Too Much Space

So hey...
Don't tell me about nonviolence
Don't tell me about Martin Luther King
Don't tell me about Due Process
Don't tell me what songs to sing
Don't tell me about healing, staring at the ceiling, appealing to the most high
Don't tell me about dialogue
Don't tell me about both sides
Don't tell me about race relations, patience, "be more like the Asians"
Don't tell me how I'm feeling, really, don't tell how I'm feeling
Don't tell me bout quiet
Don't tell me about nonviolence
My great great-grampa died in the Tulsa race riots and it was violent
And it was twilit
On the ground, in the town when they killed everybody inside it
And then denied it and tried to hide it
This is the sound of silence

But don't tell me about nonviolence
Don't tell me about nonviolence
Don't tell me about nonviolence til bombs stop droppin on Caribbean islands
Don't tell me bout "we shall overcome", pig, while ya holdin a gun
Don't tell me turn the other cheek, faker
Don't tell me bout the peacemakers
Don't tell me about Quakers
Don't tell me about King
Don't tell me about Gandhi
Don't tell me about dreams
Don't tell me about how if you just work hard you can make it
Don't tell me about risk takers
Don't tell me about shit, you faker!
I want my mule and my forty acres!
Don't tell me about non-violence
Don't tell me about non-violence
Don't tell us about non-violence
What you know about non-violence
What you know about non-violence