I wake you up by telling truth spreading knowledge,
It’s my job to raise boys to men like my last name Styles.
The things they would never teach you in college,
Just evening the race get back these miles.
Society is so organized in propaganda I can’t call it,
Nothing else could be the label but slave chronicles.
Nothin’s ever promised tomorrow today we learn gentrification the hardaway,
Listen one day you’ll whisper I heard em say.