2-1 Holmes

QuadroonQuadroon 

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Quadroon

In the slave societies of the Americas, a quadroon or quarteron was a person with one quarter African and three quarters European ancestry (or in Australia, one quarter aboriginal ancestry). Similar classifications were octoroon for one-eighth black (Latin root octo-, means "eight") and hexadecaroon for one-sixteenth black. Governments of the time sometimes incorporated the terms in law, defining rights and restrictions. The use of such terminology is a characteristic of hypodescent, which is the practice within a society of assigning children of mixed unions to the ethnic group which the dominant group perceives as being subordinate. The racial designations refer specifically to the number of full-blooded African ancestors or equivalent, emphasizing the quan… more »

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I have a prediction...
2, 1, Holmes
It's 2020 suck my drone
I'm officially a motherfucker got a son of my own
I spit fire, hot Cheetos regurgitation
Resusitated, unreplicated
It's complicated imma milelineul screaming f*ck my phone
I believe in god it's my paps
This, specific assimilation of sounds is giving props
For the one who put me into this world
And the one who could take me out
Shake me down, not a lot of people left around
But who knows how, who knows now
Cage my elephant, invisible and intelligent
Seldom do I see relevance, so embellish in this
Disconnected head trip, stoned like sediment
Grown like sentiment, for the invented friend
Ive never been one to follow followers so
It was never a problem for me to see what it meant, and
Honestly, its a tragic comedy, the way the masses
Eat up of this trafficked pharmacology
The media, the media
Greedier and greedier
The spending lives like time on the meter, its philosophically
A fallacy, they casually deploy
With hopes that those who know will keep they mouth shut like little boys
So the stuff their attention, cram they head with little toys
To distract you from the fact that culture destroys choice
And ironically, supposed to the land of the chosen free
But cosmically, it's nothing more than history's growing seed
Shit, it dont repeat but it rhymes
And sometimes I can see how the minds of the free get lost inside the scheme
The violent themes and silent memes line the streets
You can't find a piece of peace Unless you cock your glock and walk the street
Godamn, thats a lot of grief to hold
Within the day to day routine; truth be gold
Gilded on the surface full of glitter and purpose
Pushed like a people full of guilt in the circuit
Of the american justice system, its a motherfucking circus
Find yourself born within skin and be indebted in service
To the very same persons who put you down in this place
Had your grandmother purchased, and allowed for this fate
And people wonder why the youth wont vote in the race
It doesnt take a genius to see this isn't a game worth it play
I'm twenty one and the truth, breathing and bleeding in flesh
Frozen in bones of my blood, broken n blemished, ah
Smoking my death wish, uh
We was, hanging a necklace
Stolen stench, something fishy but this aint bikini bottom
Nah... I got a problem with all y'all

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