and face towards the sun awaiting
instructions from my divine
commander
toe in armor passed down
from my ancestors that cast a
reflection of strength and courage to all
that dare cross my path
mothers and grandmothers, Luella, Rovenia, Ruth Mary and Zelmore for
their grace has opened my eyes to the light
and I ask no questions
young that carry baskets
trimmed with gold atop their
heads, bearing gifts for
tomorrow, open the gate and
let them pass for they are
the essence of life
to do us harm and I raise my fist
to the sky as a sign that I am ready
to stand.
Stand up for my brother Kwabena
my sister Adwoa, by nephew Quincy
and my niece LaVonne.
I stand up for the future
I stand.
I battle on a daily basis with racists
with unfamiliar, smiling faces
fearful of what I bring to their work places
I'm armed with fake smiles and salutations
I run for cover to reload 'cause as I'm told
"you must keep smilin' chile'!" all the while
disrupting my natural, cool, smooth,
soul brotha' number one style.
My cheeks get tired, but if I'm not happy, I'm fired
I'm a soldia'
My fatigues aren't green, they're not that type, rather
they're cackies
and oxfords with ties tied fight and just right
to the sight of the she directa' and I'll betcha'
they're lookin' closer at me and LaRoy and Quentin and Hector.
I watch other brotha's with chagrin
as they scramble to blend in with their talk,their walk,
and the clicks they move in.
They cringe at Ebonics,
but after work confide in Gin and Tonics
to drown their shame
They give in and call it a "game"
But not me, I'm a soldia', I thought I told ya'
They bite their tongues on important issues,
then run for tissues to dry their eyes
cause they sell-out to lies and wear silly disguises
they scurry with their heads to the ground
at least when a soldia' comes around
But it's "all good" . . . I mean "it's cool"
nope, that jargon is inappropriate too!
I can't fake it, I won't make it,
If it's "like that" then take it and keep it
my life is truth so I seek it.
I'm soldia' by day, resting at night.
I try to play, but instead I fight
I'm not afraid and though I'm paid
I refuse to forget the gains we've made
I'm a soldia'
My own people can't stand me, the boss can't understand me
I walk off beat;
heart pumping blood from the ghetto streets,
places they would never dwell, they say it's worse than hell
I am happy, they just can't tell
and I'm not a chameleon, I resist the change,
To me it's a war, don't like those games.
I'm a soldia', I thought I told ya'
Despite my degrees and intellect,
I'm handcuffed by fears, subject to disrespect
always a suspect, got me wantin' to flex and wring necks
the hell with a check,
but-ain't that what they expect?
Instead, I search for words I learned in their class,
to tell them politely and intellectually to kiss my ass.
Built to endure pain and stress,
there's no place for timidness, I get things off my chest
Sometimes I wish I could let things be,
but the creator created the warrior in me.
Somebody has to deal with the ones who bought and sold ya'
I guess that's me, cause I'm a soldia'
I used to laugh at brothers in Brooks Brothers suits
accusing them of "sellin' out" for loot
Now when I see them with ties around their necks
I dap em' up and give 'em respect
Refining to judge by what I see
Cause they could be a soldia' just like me
When I return home at night I sigh deep and sleep
happy to be with my peeps
but damn, they're fighting each other in the street
They need to suit up and come fight with me,
but we still suffer from that slave mentality
it's too much for some to carry on their shoulda's
so give it to me like I told ya'
'cause I'm a soldia'. I'm a soldia'