“Different Pages”
(DC Spoken Word / Hip-Hop Style)
Yeah…
Turn me up a lil’ bit…
Nah fr.
Look—
We chapters of the same book, just a different page,
Youngins in the struggle all out tryna get paid,
Doin’ what we gotta do tryna dodge them raids,
Before you get boxed in…
’cause you still can’t dodge that grave.
Aye slim…
That’s the part they don’t wanna hear though.
Everybody out here stuntin’ for the ‘Gram,
Whole time they spirit broke.
Smilin’ in selfies,
cryin’ behind smoke.
Poppin’ bottles in the section,
but mentally hangin’ by a rope.
And what’s crazy?
We started separating ourselves again.
Black-owned this.
Black-only that.
Black excellence—cool…
but where the love at?
Nah fr—
I get supportin’ your people,
that ain’t the issue.
The issue is when support turn into ego,
attitude,
division…
Like somehow you better
because you got money now?
Because your skin darker?
Because your skin lighter?
Because your followers higher?
Man stop playin’.
We still chained mentally.
Just traded whips for opinions
and plantations for social media.
Light skin.
Dark skin.
Good hair.
Bad hair.
Brothers hatin’ brothers.
Sisters tearin’ down sisters.
And we call that progress?
Whole city full of trauma nobody healing from.
That’s why everybody angry.
Everybody defensive.
Everybody movin’ like they gotta prove somethin’.
Aye moe…
half these people don’t need money.
They need peace.
We got homeless folks out here fightin’ demons,
mental illness eatin’ they mind alive,
and instead of helpin’—
people record em’.
Laugh at em’.
Walk past em’.
Like they not human.
But you ain’t better than that man on the corner, slim.
That could be YOU after enough heartbreak.
That’s what people forget.
We all reflections.
Different chapters.
Same pain.
Same fear.
Same blood runnin’ when we cut.
And I ain’t rappin’ this from hate.
Nah.
I love us too much to stay quiet.
Because somewhere along the line
we forgot what the dream was.
Martin Luther King Jr. ain’t march for us to become bitter.
Rosa Parks ain’t sit down so we could stand on each other necks.
Malcolm X wanted pride…
not poison.
But now everybody too bougie to care.
Too tough to cry.
Too proud to apologize.
Too busy tryna look rich
instead of being real.
And that’s why the culture hurtin’.
’Cause the real ones know—
money don’t mean you healed.
Jewelry don’t mean you happy.
And designer clothes can’t cover broken souls.
Nah fr.
The real flex now?
Being kind in a cold world.
Helping somebody when you got every reason not to.
Seeing yourself in people everybody else ignore.
That’s power.
So before you judge somebody struggling…
remember—
you just one bad season away from understanding em’.
And before we keep separating ourselves by race, money, status, followers, or pain…
remember this:
We chapters of the same book, slim…
just different pages.
And if we don’t start loving each other deeper…
history gon’ keep repeating itself
with a different outfit on.
