AVENUE BLUES (feat. Franc West & Vuyo Sotashe)

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Orlando Watson

4:24

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Aye yo, Brad
My mic on
Dig
All praise be to the Most High
Crime sky high, but we stay fly
The journalists asking me to testify
But they just wanna vilify
The revolution televised
Storefront churches sold salvation by the boatload
And casted conviction to convince us of hell
Hoping our adolescent hearts held the cross of Christ closely
While clergy crafted us believers to stuff into Sunday service
Where prosperity sermons seemed to suit our pastor's pockets
And pad black hope with charismatic monologues and what not
So we'd opt to learn the "golden rule" by 5
Before we were ever afforded the foresight to comprehend how recess
Became recidivism so suddenly
Playpens began to resemble penitentiaries without warning
As if detention determined warrants and caused the warden to cage us accordingly
Holding cells held winos who fought to find their footing
On the front steps of underfunded fellowships
Fixed next to liquor stores nestled in the nooks of our neighborhood
Nevertheless we tossed 10% of our income into wicker baskets
Believing our worries were weaved to worship
While we gave goods without grudge or necessity
Simply seeking to salvage our tattered habitats
With hand-me-down doctrine we adopted
After Europeans doctored our faith for profit
They said a change gone come, but we still waitin' on it to happen
All praise be to the Most High
Crime sky high, but we stay fly
Journalists asking me to testify
But they just wanna vilify
A revolution televised
They prayed that we'd squander
Every single summer on corners that catered to cold cash
And crack that impacted black families from coast to coast
See we watched pimps parade a handful of hoes like BBQ Grippo's
And grab chicks like greasy chips we'd chew on choice molars
Of course this overexposure molded our perception of women
While porn erected our expectations of relations
And positioned us to partake in "feline pie"
Intended and set aside for committed consumption
But we munched as much as possible
Proving peer pressure prompted our participation by the plateful
We arrested their innocence with coitus
Convincing countless queens that we'd protect and serve their sanctity
But our oath
Our oath was equally as crooked as the cops that profiled our pigment for profit
O-o-o-o
What have we become
Can we find another way
Yet we always sing
We shall overcome
But when will someday come our way
Police presumed that our porches full of Pookies and Peaches
Transported pockets full of "porch pollen" to people
That Clinton sentenced as super-predators with superpowers
But we were only scrumptious supper to a sick system
That sought to suck our strength from the onset
And somehow
Our consciousness simmered in assaults that called for action
Whenever cops cornered us about color-coded corner culture
Before gangs began to understand that our color was the scheme all along
Gun-governed ghettos guided our guilt to get good at being bad by the batch
But badges beat us to the punch to play stop and frisk for fun
Even outside of assigned jurisdictions
Precincts pressed their knees into our necks
And left us with sentences heavier than our hearts
However
We've learned to adjust to every injustice that jams us up
On this boulevard of broken dreams
Still we always say
We shall overcome
But when will someday come our way

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