Poem: SHiKi
One pill
Two pill
Red pill
Blue pill
Black face
Blue gun
Old story
New Sun
In these hands I have two pills
You take the blue one and my story ends here
With you waking up tomorrow believing whatever it is
You want to believe
Believe that I disobeyed
Believe that I was a danger
Believe that I was a threat to their lives and to yours
Believe them when they say that the dash cam timed out
And they truly lost the evidence
Believe them when they say

Bridge I: Nicólas Soul & Bryson Garrett
One pill, two pill
Red pill, blue pill
Noo
This black pain too real
Still surviving fuck how you feel
Noo
We been surviving in this world
We been surviving
Black boys out dying in this world
But pressure make us diamonds
Pressure make us diamonds
Poem
That I was already apprehended with three broken ribs
Holding me up straight
Niagara Falls' bloody sister on my tongue
And a crushed spirit keeping me alive
Ignore my mother when she cries demanding justice for her son
Her first born child
Her baby boy
Ignore my friends when they try to tell you what potential I had to change the world
Ignore the witnesses when they try to explain what really happened that day
Instead
Listen to the media
Pay very close attention to how they justify my death by citing a traffic violation
Let them persuade you not to empathize with my lifeless body by letting you hear these poems
Listen to those who will say

Bridge: Trevone
If you go and lay me down
Won’t you tell my story?
Black boy trynna make it out
And get everything for me
If you go and lay me down
Won’t you tell my story?
Black boy trynna make it out
Like the ones before me
Poem
That I was just another statistic
A new number on an endless list of complaints
Listen to those who will say
That racism and stereotypes died after the Civil Rights Movement
Listen to those who will say
That my friends, my family
My people are over-exaggerating
That the only problem in America today is our inability to simply move on