Last night I heard my son crying out for me as he rested in the dark
Mama, sweet mama, why did God have to set me apart?
The only boy in a sheepfold of three
The only Quran Thompson Jr.
A boy who just wants to be free
Mama, sweet mama, the mama who knows best
How is a black boy supposed to maintain?
How is he supposed to do his best?
How is he going to keep his dreams from drying up
in the sun?
How is he supposed to get respect without holding
a gun?
Who is he supposed to follow?
If no one will stand up and lead
How is he supposed to mend his broken heart?
If he is told that crying makes a black man weak
Mama, sweet mama, is it okay to cry?
When I go down with the crew
But mama I don’t want to die
I just want a friend mama, who can show me the way
Someone who is respectful and who knows how to obey
Does a friend like that even exist mama?
Please tell me the truth
Fake friends are a dime a dozen son and I’m sorry to say
There isn’t a friend living on earth who can show you your way
You see you were created by a God who knows you best
He created your life and labeled it Little Q’s test
Some days it might seem so hard that you will want to quit
Some days you will experiment with lying and cheating
Until you discover that’s still not it
You’ll go deep inside of yourself refusing to come out
Until one day you will see that your internal flower has sprouted
You’ll feel the sun on your face and you’ll know that it is time
To wake up what was sleeping
You will free your own mind
You will stand up and declare
“Enough is enough”
You will regain your strength
You will rebuild your relationships with trust
You will paint a new picture the way things are supposed to be
Holding God’s power in your hand son
You will totally be free…