Young Black Swag

Old heads fully harness theirs
Their slang’s different, times change
Years transforming the young circumstances into lessons learned
Into that IT.
To quote my own work, “Moods Sway”
A thousand times over, moods sway to bear the fruits of the IT
Young Negros born into this world, with hate bearing down
From all sides for no apparent reason,
My theory comes from their own miseducation,
Learn to love what makes us unique
So the “majority” can’t put their hands on it, can’t blame em
They want a piece of mine, but I couldn’t give it if I wanted to
I can’t harness it.
Young black flavorful woman informed me about mine.
You ever wonder why when you hear a beat, you can’t help but to move.
Incited in the womb of your mother, through the veins of old
IN the sixties, it was your “Happenin”
Seventies, your “cool”
Different slang don’t change my meaning, nor the fact it courses through your veins.
I can’t fully harness it, my days are too few.
I conceptualized cause of my need to explain it, but I told you before…
I can’t harness mine, so I write and think with no clear understanding
I speak of my swagger.
Dangerous tool. Not always used for good.
Killing em softly, or turning them away
My swag aint for everyone, nor do they see it the same.
3000 speaks of shaking off my cool,
But that’s like asking the leopard to shake off what makes him,
I spot my own subtle nuances from time to time when I glance in the mirror
Déjà vu, seen it in my gramps, heard it in his stories
I listen not fully understanding, but my years are few
I weld up thinking of how his sacrifices make me proud of this swagger
Although I don’t fully understand, nor can I harness his gift
I view the leopard’s spots that show the character of mine own strength
How even my own transgressions show through my swag
Fully inherit the good, our people full of this swag they can’t fully harness
Generational curses, daddy issues, tension breeds hate
All in our swagger.
Since we stacked those boats, they tried to drive a dagger in what makes us
Push on cause my swagger sways deep, uprooted by no one.
My swagger, perplexes me, my days are too few.
But my seed can rest assured I don’t have to understand it, to pass it
Nor harness it, for it to show.