Like we don't know how,
the asphalt on this road
gives for heavy feet
Like peach cobbler ain't always been
umbrella for depression’s rain
Like light from burning crosses
didn't reflect off window panes
Like Pop-pop ain't lay rifle cross lap
on Su’then porches
Like we ain't douse holy water on torches
Like Stokely ain't lay blueprint,
Like Assata don't breathe through these letters
Like Black mamas don't braid bullets into cornrows
Like we ain’t beat the Ma’afa,
Like we can't lay roses on Jim Crow’s tomb
Like Sankara never told us,
the oppressor was on our dinner plate
Like Nzinga never held country,
countryside and countrymen down
Like Medgar ain't sacrifice
everything, for the only thing
Like liberation is any. other. place.
than under our sternums
Like we ain't been surviving
Like TRiUMPh something new for us
Like (We ain't All) been needin freedom
Like the time ain't now
Like this road been crystal
Like you ain't supposed to,
keep climbing them stairs
