Nigga what? You thought you could write a hood classic about turning black and free and apathetic and neurotic and narcotic and nilotic and bloodclot and bombaclot and working class and shiftless and Peter Tosh and Lonely Sky Boat wasn’t gonna implode through drafty speakers in the rafters the netting in the knee cushions, ‘cause we’re smugglers too in ways you wouldn’t suspect or abuse out of us you thought you could wear blackface and lament it’s baffled magic and we wouldn’t be on the other end of your victim story to show you a hoe in the field?
