By Aura Shakhar
I bet you love being called ghetto
I bet you love the attention…the appropriation
I bet you love seeing Black girls call each other a b*tch a** h*e
I bet you love the confrontation
Everything is ghetto until it’s not
Pills, lean, henny, crack and pot
When in the hands of a white it’s straight
In the hands of a Black it ain’t
Oh don’t get me started on the hair
Stop trying to make the braids work the look is not there
It’s not fair
We work so hard to keep a float
While you give out white people smiles with your new found boxer braids excited to gloat
How does it feel to be the cause of the Black women’s screams ?
How does it feel to have time to breath ?
How does it feel to not worry ?
How does it feel to not live your life in a hurry ?
Do you like it ? Can you fight it ?
The urge I mean
The urge to take what’s not yours
The urge to be a feen