Three Cord Bond

And I watched them covet our style, our confidence, natural rhythm

Our terms of endearment but not our struggle

And the products of the ghetto, what poverty can produce

And oddly enough we giggle when you mimic the sweet revenge

Homies not stupid, can tell the difference between

Admiration and mockery, please

So we protected our music

Cause truthfully we thought it was all we had

And watched y'all make a killing off it, hip-hop to jazz

Elvis to Fats Domino, Patra to Gwen Stefani

And the fact them names are foreign, that's just what I'm pointing to

Y'all imitated Jamaicans, attempted to grow dreads and

Commodified reggae, that's Marley's face on everything

Your children uses faith as an excuse to smoke weed

So we grew angry, unaware of God's plan for rescue

But we ain't no better, got a flawed version of personhood

Identifying only by being victims of oppression

A true story

And I watched them covet your camaraderie, your sense of family

Your food and work ethic but not your struggle

And we were jealous you had a homeland

And a native tongue and your parents spoke it

And we were just the offspring of the broken, hopeless

So we all learned Swahili as if we knew we were from that region

Silly we know but what you 'posed to do when all you know

Your closest cultural customs are

Similar to your captors, huh, pastor?

Easier to blame them economic woes on

Filth filtering through our borders

Immigrant job hoarders, we should all just deport 'em all

On one bus, it's stupid us, broad brush

We thought y'all were all Mexican, it's dumb I know

I'm sorry it's embarrassing, forgive us, we were jealous

We ain't know better, selfish, angry, prideful

Willie Lynchin', fighting over the same piece of mud pie

Como se dice, lo siento mucho, por favor

We all need grace much more

That's a true story

And we coveted your privilege, your generational wealth

Your unquestioned personhood but not your struggle

And we felt it wasn't fair, we wanted your options

Your grasp on proper doctrine and literature, it's silly, huh?

Your American dream apple pie worked for you, so we worked for you

You made it seem so easy, grit your teeth, you could succeed too

We ain't know your story, shoot, we thought white was white

Not Irish or Celtic, or the Bolshevik plight

Or the pain of bearing stains inherited

You said you wasn't there, it ain't fair, you wouldn't dare

But we ain't care, but we ain't know better

You told us you struggled too, rednecks in trailer parks

Me and you were cool, I hurt like you

But that was fire for the fuel that boiled into them riots

Y'all was so confused, truthfully so were we

But now we understand, we suffer the same stain

We gain from a shared ancestor, we all descend from Adam's sin

Riddles every inch of us, but now we see clearly

That crimson cord is one rope made from many strands

And each its own color but now it clearly stands

Dyed the color red from our Savior's blood shed

And a rope finds its strength from the multiple lines wrapped

Around each other until they all perfectly intertwined

So let's just call it even and walk through life knowing

That a three-cord bond is not easily broken