Next person on the bottom stage, we perform as once. This is the second time going on. It's a rock-a-roll with the toe of our cheek for years. Here is his. And I really want Chatea to help his guy by the same. He's going to do his thing. He goes on the evil rock. So the middle to push in the rock, press us. One, two, three, two. What do you want me to do? That's one thing I don't want me to do. Is that you want me to hear all the polo from the back and say, I can't put my leg in. I want you to understand what I'm doing first. Everyone on my polo is like my babies. When they call me up, they ask me to do three pieces. I want to leave them in my babies house. I got three thousand and three pieces. The only thing was like, what should we be able to do? I like to give my homeboy a new one the time. It's not my taste of roll. I want to mix it up. I got to give him some signature pieces too. This is one of my signature pieces, y'all. It's called Born in 65. I'm going to move 24 years old. I don't look like it. Look at him. That's what I am. Right, y'all? I see a lot of my life time. Peace for men and women. See, I came in swimming on the cries for my arms missed the eyes. I'm going in a vibe to my outcomes vis-to-vis cry. Right in the way for change and tide and my torn sister's side. Kicking her rhythm is my torn, vis-to-vis cry. I rank, but I came to be a number-long listed die. See, I've walked out the moon, not a movement too soon. And I was born in 65. When they ink on the civil rights bill, was unfulfilled, it still so wet. And the echoes that I'm on her voices are my people. Left the finger in question like a silver wet. We shall overcome, just don't come over after dark. Could they just murder the Malcolm and Manny's in labor, we mark in the streets of bubbling, trembling, we struggle in borders from the sixless slowness of our sons and daughters. We bleed, but still be he, King's ordess. Keep the peace for them. Three years later, he's laid to rest. Grandma quigged for the best of the death of a dream. Waking on the chest in the water, hoses and shags flying to the right to fight. Couldn't keep past quiet, because by now we get quiet. In the section we desire to rise the buttered wall. See, we're strong people. We left our herd deep in the church steeple. As the gears drowned our tears, gave us a lift in real front. God's gift that all men truly are created equal. So we moved from platform shoes to a dealist for sheltered souls. As we brushed up, as she doth of oppression, from our elbows, from the men and elbows, to stay ways to heaven's gates. But they bleed our evil spirituality, on plantations that have hatched on the ancestors, resting place, just in case you may have forgotten where we evolved from. Then you've got a serious condemn to repeat history problems. See, my fetus, the torture and deers, and humanly treat us one by one. Strategicly remove our civil rights leaders when a cruel hood's men murdered a few good men, strung up, chained in good men. I was upset my mom's stomach beginning to show signs that had been here before wisdom, watching in silence as the non-violent prophets of social change became morally challenged and emotionally drained in keeping the peace became our own. Just acts but she carving, clueless renewed by the heart, and fructing, mocked off murder form, wasted a black power button, say what you will, but 40 years ago, one of the cops, when a man, the alcohol, less than a half hour after he shouled and went the alcohol, see I'm from a time, with the information highway, was a death of a dirt road, with Motown, was the only show in town, and every man running a child on this work load before they waited us by an hour and easing, stranded our poor holidays for space travel. He is before that new, cute ex-Suller and Michael Moonglot, they bought the moon and tried to overthrow our base battle from Figue 9 to ismyspiriedvilliefree.com to your my flood and brace my pain, somebody please read my poem as one evening I keep it seen. you