A Dollar by Naila Keleta-Mae and Jason Promesse Lyrics
[Part 1]
Dem deh ya a mek
Nuff money off a we
Nuff cash prosperity
Yet still the most ah we
Ah suffa ah suffa
Nuff money off a we
Nuff cash prosperity
Yet still the most ah we
Ah suffa
[Part 2]
Can't handle Cry Freedom, Steven Biko or his pain
Prefer to watch Kung-Fu flicks
Than see the depth of subconscious tricks
Instilled within the Black mind
Raping the innocence of every Black baby it can find
The soul of democracy’s hypocrisy lives on
But not by master’s hand
See, the clever master plan only needed a few licks from master’s stick
To be imbedded in the Black soul for more than a lifetime
The fear to be passed along for generations along the lifeline
Nurtured in, by and through us it would grow foster
Seed planted in the womb of the house negress
An alternative fuck later promoted to Mistress
Inbreeded half-breed confused mulatto she was mixed
But searching for pride refused to mix with the field niggers in the yard
Erecting barriers of straight nose, light skin, slightly narrower hips
Boasting her high yellow complexion while sucking in her thick bottom lip
Distancing herself from herself reflected in the field niggers in the yard
[Part 3]
Centuries later our niggers
Feel up their bitches
In elementary school yards
Enslaved by complexes of inferiority
Confused by the difference between their reality
And the one lived by the white minority
Called society
And now I hold a dollar in my hand
Convinced that with it I can buy me a new master plan
And so I bring my dollar to the bank and find out
That in this world it is only worth two quarters and a dime
Sixty cents calculated after the US exchange rate
But
My Canadian paycheck didn’t compensate for the difference
It never added a quarter, a nickel, a dime
Forty more cents so a dollar could make sense
And be a dollar
So I really hold a dollar full up of nonsense
Cause its really just two quarters and ten cents
But then I checked the paycheck…WHAT?
Did a double check… DAMN!
Realize after taxes sixty cents was demoted to a dime
I need some time to figure out
Who benefits from this hypocritical American dreaming?
Deflated by Canadian currency
[Part 4]
I feel a sense of urgency
I’m physically free while mentally imprisoned
And I’m starting to lose my vision
See, I wanted to buy in
Pretend like no struggle I’m in
With two eyes open and a third one closed
I could lead a happy existence
I'd marry white, two kids, a Pathfinder maybe a Jeep
A Johnson family name plate on my front door to greet our neighbors
But none of them would be sisters or brothers
Hell, and risk having my property value decrease? Nah
Instead I would choose to increase my ignorance
And turn my back on all the others that look me
That looked like me
Shit, that's me
[Part 5]
Afraid to hear the truth about my people
Yet living proof of the truth of my people
Don't want to read no books or see no films about my people
Yet leading a flick of my own with every click of the father clock
That statistics show could be cut short by the click of a Black brother’s Glock
And still I hold this dollar in my hand
But in fact it’s just a dime
And I was hoping with it I could buy me a little more time
I thought it would make me part of society
With it I had plans to buy more Nike
I thought behind it I could mask all my insecurities
Forget my auntie was the house negress
Forget my sister was master’s mistress
Forget my mommy was the white baby’s mammy
Forget my granny breastfeed the same babies that went on to whip her grandbabies
Forget my father was Kunta Kinte and I wonder why I limp in modern day society
[Part 6]
And I wonder why I am holding fast to this dime
And I feel like running out from under me is… time
Can't handle Cry Freedom Biko’s life too close to home
But I bawl crying for freedom every night when I’m alone
If I could just undo history
If I could just take back centuries
Or if God had just asked me
As my spirit sat in Heaven waiting to be born
With which physical traits I wanted it to take form
Then I could have evaluated the shit-uation
And picked white, so I could live right
So my dollar could be the dollar
So my dream could be society’s reality
So my heaven could be right here, on earth
So my children wouldn’t have to struggle or fight
For identity, for equality, for a right to Be
Once a dollar now a dime
On my knees I pray to God
For a little more…time
Dem deh ya a mek
Nuff money off a we
Nuff cash prosperity
Yet still the most ah we
Ah suffa ah suffa
Nuff money off a we
Nuff cash prosperity
Yet still the most ah we
Ah suffa
[Part 2]
Can't handle Cry Freedom, Steven Biko or his pain
Prefer to watch Kung-Fu flicks
Than see the depth of subconscious tricks
Instilled within the Black mind
Raping the innocence of every Black baby it can find
The soul of democracy’s hypocrisy lives on
But not by master’s hand
See, the clever master plan only needed a few licks from master’s stick
To be imbedded in the Black soul for more than a lifetime
The fear to be passed along for generations along the lifeline
Nurtured in, by and through us it would grow foster
Seed planted in the womb of the house negress
An alternative fuck later promoted to Mistress
Inbreeded half-breed confused mulatto she was mixed
But searching for pride refused to mix with the field niggers in the yard
Erecting barriers of straight nose, light skin, slightly narrower hips
Boasting her high yellow complexion while sucking in her thick bottom lip
Distancing herself from herself reflected in the field niggers in the yard
[Part 3]
Centuries later our niggers
Feel up their bitches
In elementary school yards
Enslaved by complexes of inferiority
Confused by the difference between their reality
And the one lived by the white minority
Called society
And now I hold a dollar in my hand
Convinced that with it I can buy me a new master plan
And so I bring my dollar to the bank and find out
That in this world it is only worth two quarters and a dime
Sixty cents calculated after the US exchange rate
But
My Canadian paycheck didn’t compensate for the difference
It never added a quarter, a nickel, a dime
Forty more cents so a dollar could make sense
And be a dollar
So I really hold a dollar full up of nonsense
Cause its really just two quarters and ten cents
But then I checked the paycheck…WHAT?
Did a double check… DAMN!
Realize after taxes sixty cents was demoted to a dime
I need some time to figure out
Who benefits from this hypocritical American dreaming?
Deflated by Canadian currency
[Part 4]
I feel a sense of urgency
I’m physically free while mentally imprisoned
And I’m starting to lose my vision
See, I wanted to buy in
Pretend like no struggle I’m in
With two eyes open and a third one closed
I could lead a happy existence
I'd marry white, two kids, a Pathfinder maybe a Jeep
A Johnson family name plate on my front door to greet our neighbors
But none of them would be sisters or brothers
Hell, and risk having my property value decrease? Nah
Instead I would choose to increase my ignorance
And turn my back on all the others that look me
That looked like me
Shit, that's me
[Part 5]
Afraid to hear the truth about my people
Yet living proof of the truth of my people
Don't want to read no books or see no films about my people
Yet leading a flick of my own with every click of the father clock
That statistics show could be cut short by the click of a Black brother’s Glock
And still I hold this dollar in my hand
But in fact it’s just a dime
And I was hoping with it I could buy me a little more time
I thought it would make me part of society
With it I had plans to buy more Nike
I thought behind it I could mask all my insecurities
Forget my auntie was the house negress
Forget my sister was master’s mistress
Forget my mommy was the white baby’s mammy
Forget my granny breastfeed the same babies that went on to whip her grandbabies
Forget my father was Kunta Kinte and I wonder why I limp in modern day society
[Part 6]
And I wonder why I am holding fast to this dime
And I feel like running out from under me is… time
Can't handle Cry Freedom Biko’s life too close to home
But I bawl crying for freedom every night when I’m alone
If I could just undo history
If I could just take back centuries
Or if God had just asked me
As my spirit sat in Heaven waiting to be born
With which physical traits I wanted it to take form
Then I could have evaluated the shit-uation
And picked white, so I could live right
So my dollar could be the dollar
So my dream could be society’s reality
So my heaven could be right here, on earth
So my children wouldn’t have to struggle or fight
For identity, for equality, for a right to Be
Once a dollar now a dime
On my knees I pray to God
For a little more…time