Mommies, daddies, siblings missing

Too many pistol kissing

In place of shooting stars, the bullets are doin the whisking

Long lives are fleeting

Daffy with the darker skin, every season is hunting season

Rarely with a “proper” reason

The systems are hella flawed

From the Nigga’s to the Law’s

Crosses on yo chest, still dyin, where’s yo God

No more hanging from the trees

They falling, dying in streets

Leaving pasts and futures weeping

No more chains, but it’s bout them bars and bars

Bruising when they reaching far

Money, money, money be the cause

Natural is viewed as wrong

And a smile or “sorry” is viewed as soft

Comin through with a marching crew

Fists raised with tattoos, too

From the dreads to the fades to the fros

Shirts written “BLM” for these and those

A statement inside the message

A message because of messes

Messes are racial oppresses

Black bodies walking

Cuz the dead bodies talking

Talking bout the racists

Getting away with all the cases

Doin it in front of camera faces

Still gettin all the pays and the praise

While children losing parents in the nights and the days

These are brutes shooting down the strange fruit