When Martin had a Dream

I’m not an old head but I’m no spring chicken
But I do remember the time before things quickened
I remember when folk looked out for each other's kids on the block
And boys didn’t walk around wearing pink bobbie socks
And braids were in the heads of 5 year-old boys
Not in the scalps of men afraid to let go of toys
I remember when stilettos were the footgear of pros
Not for 8th grade wanna-be 3-oh-4's
And body art was for the pagans at the circus side show
Not for the lower back and inner thighs and where the thong goes
I remember when aunties and sistas and mamas wore earrings
Now we got so called men rockin' cocktail bling-bling
I remember when beaters were a-shirts considered underwear
Now sistas match 'em with skirts—'cause it's fun to wear
I remember all of these things and they make me scream
'Cause I remember when Ross was a Supreme
And Martin had a dream
And Martin had a dream

Now the dreams I remember are dreams becoming nightmares
Preachers wear the suits that a common pimp might wear
The celebration of Black ignorance is a life-long fiesta
Keeping Black people comatose in a life-long siesta
We went from we shall overcome to we shall act over dumb
We went from black history month to smoking black and mild blunts
We went from academic excellence to epidemic ignorance
We went from R.I.F to R.I.P and of course ADC
We went from banging Schoolhouse Rock to slangin' Schoolhouse crack rocks
We went from quoting red words of Jesus to black words of Jeezy
and we're moving on down say bye to George and Weezy
We went from Doc to Sneezy, we’re metaphorical dwarfs
We went from friend of a brother to Friend of the Courts
We went from building this nation to tearing it down
We went from dignified royalty to acting like clowns
We went from Rock the Vote to rock the boat
Rock the boat/rock the boat/rock the boat
Stroke it for me
Stroke it for me
We went from “give us us free” to rocking a trap coat
We went from a future perfect promise to present perfect curse
We're actually a race running in full reverse
I long for the days with hopes to redeem
Cause I remember when milk had cream
And Martin had a dream
Martin had a dream
Martin had a dream

Should I even dream on the level of King
When “Get on my level” simply deals with bling-bling-bling
And sistas and brothas fight to remain
Entrapped and in bondage in psychological chains
They actually fight for the right to underachieve
For kujichagulia they will never believe
And kuumba is expressed in over-priced jeans
And ujima is sistas lettin’ their shoulders lean
With the absence of nia it becomes quite clear
Umoja is expressed in fake colored hair
Bruhs slangin’ rocks and they call it ujamaa
Ignoring the crack head mama in her Spongebob pajama
And the level of imani in the hood is low
When strip clubs and dance clubs are where my people go
Should I even dream like MLK
When the afflicted masses ignore all that I say?
Should I even believe in a brighter morn
As we continue to abort any unwanted new-born?
Should I even aspire for much better things
When the tongue, navel and brow have replace wedding rings?
Should I even focus on higher plateaus
When bruhs have to be loud wherever they go?
I remember when I longed to free my people’s minds
Unplug them from the Matrix and to help them find
Their way to a better way through knowledge of self
To have more than Maxim on a book shelf
To remove mo’’’’ fu’’’’ from their diction
And free them from their nightly X-Box addiction
And return to my sista a virginic womb
That isn’t available to every hip hop coon
But now I tire and I smell my defeat
Between the numbing effects of constant beats
Between rambling morons unhooked from phonics
But hooked on black and mild stuffed with chronic
Between the sexually charged 12 year old girl
With booty-crack tattoo sayin’ “Rock yo’ worl’!”
Between ever-growing red and blue beef
Between the ridiculous grills simmerin’ on teeth
I can’t see a tomorrow without clouds in the sky
Complements of too many peeps getting’ high
I can’t see a future without asking why
Did we return to slavery? Why?
So now I merely close my eyes
To shield them from everything I despise
And I hear a voice still echoing through
The ages, but only heard by a few
It takes me back…to a simpler time
Before we were instructed through retarded rhymes
Before VCR before Tivo before BET
Before celly before Nelly before SUV
Before M + FG became a religion
Before hate and destroy became a mission
The baritone returns me to greener grass
When all my people sought to be world-class
When all we wanted was an equal share
Of work and school and no welfare
The voice took me back, it seems
To when Coretta was a queen
And Martin was a king
And Martin had a dream.