‘Going Fishing,’ you call it? Why cop the lame code?
‘Nigger Hunting’ is factual… Maybe that’s it.
Speaking truth is beneath you. As predators go,
You take cues from a master who puts on a show
Tailor suited to reignite dormant bullshit.
I don’t want your white bitches nor dicks they done blowed!
You ingest paranoia. Your souls are consumed
By your rabid nightmare that your women we want.
We don’t think like you do nor do we feel compelled
To get that close to trouble when hatred is smelled
At the cusp of encounter. What trash would you flaunt
For your foul smelling caper profusely perfumed?
Take your sick vacant minds and fulfill them with space
So at least there is something to pacify you.
To this world you’re a danger – not only black lives.
We all came from the dark land. Your madness derives
From your factual science. So what will you do?
Lousy bait is your problem. You’re in a tough race.