"[1]
This one for the niggas
The ones that was called that descriptor
When they was delivered
Out there in Virginia
The ones ever since who have taken the care to defend the
People surrendered from coast to the coast to the cold and the whip of the lash
I never lived it, but I’ll tell now…
Boy it’s familiar
Said, boy, it’s familiar
For the gangs with the chains on they hands and they ankles it ain't just a sankofa song
For the Kings, whether Martin or Rodney, who knew it unlikely but asked could we all get along!
For the answer we know to that question that keep us a little suspicious
We ain't the first that have wished it
We ain't the first ones to get it
Said, boy, it's familiar
For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters
Who don't get attention but often are victims
So they suffer in silence from all kinds of violence
And try as they might we don't listen
For the beatings, the treatment, the rapings, the hangings and lynchings
I hope that we can be forgiven
I never lived it, but boy, it's familiar
Say, boy, it’s familiar
All black on my windows
Pistol under my pillow
If I'm an activist, I'm no pacifist
I'm just keeping shit real, though
I ain't turning a blind eye
And I ain't expecting no heroes
I ain't pressing no 911
But I ain't living in fear, though
[Hook]
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit
Now what? The same shit
Now what? The same shit
Boy, it's familiar
Mess with them boys, and they kill you
Then get a lawyer to deal with
Annoying appeals to
The public to show 'em they did 'em
A favor destroying a villain
No, you ain't living
If you know you ain't living
But seconds away from a sentence
Making a way for a system
You die or they take you to prison
Take what they know you ain't giving
[2]
This one for the niggas
Who just got from prison
Or on they way, stuck on the ave
Hustle from morning to evening for things that they need
Or the things they can have
City's so cold, that you gotta fend for yourself, they compare it to Iraq
‘cause it’s a war that we live in
Imagine the war when our children say “Boy, it’s familiar."
For the gangs and the fame
And the whips and the chains
And the game that we play through the pain
That we drench ourselves in when we win
Since we win at the game then it seems we should call it Champ Pain
Elevated—we taking the L but we winning
‘cause we still living
Living through pain, but we living
Giving through strain, but we giving
Boy, it’s familiar
For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters
We don't give attention but often are victims
We inflict them with violence
And tell them to suffer in silence, so why would we listen?
For the beatings, the treatment, the rapings, the hangings and lynchings
I hope we can be forgiven
I hope we can be forgiven
Boy, it's familiar
All black on my windows
Pistol under my pillow
If I'm an activist, I'm no pacifist
I'm just keeping shit real, though
I ain't turning a blind eye
And I ain't expecting no heroes
I ain't pressing no 911
But I ain't living in fear, though
[Hook]
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit
Now what? The same shit
Now what? The same shit
Boy, it's familiar
Mess with them boys, and they kill you
Then get a lawyer to deal with
Annoying appeals to
The public to show 'em they did 'em
A favor destroying a villain
No, you ain't living
If you know you ain't living
But seconds away from a sentence
Making a way for a system
You die or they take you to prison
Take what they know you ain't giving.”
