[Verse 1: billy woods]
Tell my son like this: don’t admit to shit
But don’t resist, don’t flinch when you get gripped up
Metal bites the wrist. Don’t talk about rights
Or what’s right or what would happen if you were white
Even if they whip your ass, don’t fight, don’t laugh
Or get tight. Might jump out the shadow
Middle of the night, but it’s on you, boy, to keep those hands
In plain sight. Don’t touch your belt
Reach for your wallet or happen to be holding your cell
Normal speech is a yell. Yelling is a reach
For the gun, silence admission of guilt. Don’t try
To walk away—if you’re running, then run. If you’re
Smart, play dumb. Don’t get caught in the slums
Or a nice neighborhood you ain’t from. If you need
Help, don’t call 911—can’t trust it