The Invisible Backpacker of Priviledge

[Verse 1: Guante]
I don’t identify as white
But I identify as white enough, to get that indie rap writer buzz
And benefit from, a system set up
For rappers who already have advantages to get love
Think about it, how many music writers are white?
How many bloggers, how many booking agents?
How many college radio DJs?
How many publicists, concert-goers and critics got white faces?
Cause you can watch 8 mile and assume
White rappers got it hard, but it isn’t really true
This is America, even if you’re not racist
Racism’s in the foundation, face it
I’m not saying white people can’t participate
Obviously, I’m just saying please eliminate
The myth that it’s just about hard work and lyrical ability
’cause it’s about responsibility
Know the history, put people on, build community
‘cause not everyone who works hard earns it
And if they ever make you a monument
Scratch your name out, break it, spit on it, burn it
Yo, it’s so messed up how
You talk about whiteness and half your fanbase shuts down
So nod your head, you ain’t got to understand us
Just put your hands up, put your fucking hands up

[Verse 2: Chantz Erolin]
Ayo white kid, yeah, yeah, I hate to say it like this
But I'm trying to help you get enlightened to having light skin
Don't trip, I don't hate kids, and someone's gonna called me racist
But I'm running out of patience so I gotta say this
I know it's hard for you to see it conceive what it means to be me
Well, not me, but be defined what society sees
They say I'm the belief
We post racial distill, I feel confined by police
This dude called the cops on the crib the other night
Saying that I robbed his wife or some dude that wasn't white
Maybe Native, maybe Asian
Either way, three squad cars hit my crib at 3 AM
And no white boy, in no way is that your fault
You may hate pigs and think their profiling is awful
But understand that you would not be in that position
Just for smoking on your porch with your particular pigment
You got the privilege to not having to deal with your race
All my relatives are off putting bleach on their face
I used to wish I was white, but I'm disgusted by skin cream
I was bullied and cried without knowing what chink means
[?] get doubts bumping this song or humming along
You've been taught that skin color means nothing at all
A whiteness is considered normal and neutral
You may not notice race when them white rappers do shows
It's crazy in a rap show devoid of brown and black folk
Hearing white kids saying words they should get smacked for
This was built on the backs of our oppression
Now you think it's just your raps that'll leave impressions?

[Verse 3: Chris Hooks]
Hands up
Foolish when I'm glory tap dancing, drinking 40's
Don't judge me if you do not know my story
And I'd do the same, it's more than just a name, nigga
Mainframe spinning like a twister knowing
Most of these listeners won't understand
Race and change, I guess it's time to grow up
If you can't acknowledge how you get here then don't even show up
The token black leaving heart attacks more righteous than my phone
You speaking stories of my homies
On some things they never knew, they only heard about
Darker than the couch up in my mama's house
My roots is deeper than these double standards so I'm speaking out
Love it when we're all connected in the soda
But I can't respect my brother if he can't respect my culture
Moving fast like Testarosta growing up
Dream in color, kid
I'm in living color, all my Wayans brothers spit
Hoping that my whiter color brother can relate to this
If you can't we can change how bad our separation gets
Preaching on the New Testament like we're in Nazareth
Press love me cause I'm cosigned by my lighter publicist
Knowing that we're all connected, to police I'll plead the fifth
Knowing the quality in this, if you racist or you hate this
You can give my ass a kiss, put some lipstick on your lips
Cause I don't wanna change my color, not even a little bit
In the end all I ask is you acknowledge privilege
Cause I promise you, you wouldn't be popular in '96