In 1939, a dazzling water show debuted at the New York World’s Fair, an event deemed the most popular world’s fair event of all time: Billy Rose’s Aquacade.  The aquacade showcased hundreds of swimmers moving in perfect coordination, launching the sport of synchronized swimming into the American consciousness and leaving an indelible mark on old Hollywood.  Many identify Billy Rose’s Aquacade as the culmination of years of innovations in the art of synchronized swimming, though the roots of the sport go back much further than even Billy Rose himself could imagine.  Aquacades trace all the way to ancient Rome, emerging as part of the elaborate shows funded by emperors and public officials attempting to gain the love and support of the Roman people.  How were Roman aquacades staged, and what was their eventual fate?  What is the legacy of Billy Rose’s show?  And what common themes emerge when comparing synchronized swimming in ancient Rome and 20th century America?

View bibliography and music credits here: https://waterarchitecturesenses.wordpress.com/abigail-bradford/

Synchronized: A History of Aquacades from Rome to New York

Fresh Beats from Snoop to Euripides, by UVA graduate student Abigail Bradford, is an experiment in telling stories about the past by highlighting similarities between the ancient and modern worlds.  The ancient Greeks were not static, faceless entities but rather thinking and feeling people with their own individual tastes, beliefs, and motivations.  This piece aids in breathing life back into these long-gone people and in showing just how surprisingly consistent humans are over thousands of years.

Produced with support from the Religion, Race & Democracy Lab at the University of Virginia.

Fresh Beats from Snoop to Euripides

"If you like metaphor or prefer literal,
I’m from Illinois, and I rhyme like the first syllable—
sick, and I’m nice, hospitable.
Ask and I give—16 of a hot spittable.

The hospital operates as a symbol for
my temperament, delivering sentiments you were wishing for…
or maybe it’s the dope you were itching for,
twitching for, took it too fast, now you’re living for.

Jungle Fever’s Gator; New Jack City’s Pookie;
kick fly shit—don’t blame rappers for trying to shoo me.
Truly unruly, live like a movie and keep it Goonie.
Think like Malcolm Little, but say it like Paul Mooney. 

Who is he really? Ask me that question; I find it silly, 
but I respond, then I keep on, like I’m looking for the real me...
searching for meaning, find what I’m needing, living per diem, 
seek and you’ll see him; don’t and you won’t; I know the feeling.

He speaks, 
/and it’s/ less abstract than a backpack on a mountain—
the one I’m gone tell it on, whispering, not shoutin’. I’m cool. 
And if I’m cool, then I’m cold, and these cold words, 
are code words that you see in/action like no verbs. 
I’ll wait.

Distraction’s a master—an old game,
the type that has the player embracing his own chains.

If silence is golden, then you can hold it, 
know it, know the way to expose it and still condone it [or own it].

But it’s too easy to think it before you blink, 
let your eyes close, then deny you were ever sleep. 
Or convince yourself that your dream is literally your passion,
wake up, and never remember, like history never happened.

To auction on blocks is square dealings, 
then we all bow down to say prayers in square buildings. 
Man made in His image—trying to kill his God:
a paradox in a box, like Phil and Oz."

Golden Silence ["Live" From Saas-Fee, Switzerland]

“[James Baldwin]: 
“I’m going to improvise, like a writer, on some assumptions. 

And, though I feel a little uneasy in doing this—and saying this—nevertheless, 
what a writer is obliged, at some point, to realize 
is that he’s involved in a language 
which he has to 

change.”

[1]
He walked from just above rock bottom, to not stardom, 
but starting to understand my problems are probably all my own. 
And know, homie, I’m holding my own, 
owning my own plan like the man I was destined to be. 
A dot desires the finer. 
Denies the defining. 
He lies where the diamonds you find in the rough are stuffed—
No fucks given. If it’s just living then live yours. 
I’ll live mine, and we’ll cross courses in due time. 
If not, then no bother, I’m hardly at odds wit it, 
I chill—a homebody—attracted to odd women. 
Party wit’ gods—nope, not church, not a façade. 
I read books for fun, make students out of a squad.

It’s not a game, not the same shit you’re used to. 
I do it cause I find it suitable – and hope you will decide it’s beautiful. 
But never my aim is to make what you want how you want when you want it,
I make what I like when I write. I’m alright when it’s right, so I’m writing this here in this moment.

[Hook]
So, fuck what you want.
I write what I what I write.
And I’m cool. So what if you don’t.
I like what I like.
I’m impatient, and blatantly making my statements despite
any space of complacency. 
I write what I like.

So, fuck what you want.
I write what I what I write.
And I’m cool. So what if you don’t.
I like what I like.
I’m impatient, and blatantly making my statements despite
any space of complacency. 
I write what I like.

[2]
Every time they say, “I’m different” I hear ‘em but I don’t listen.
I’m near ‘em, but I don’t feel like we close to the same position. 
I spit like I’m on a mission to kill ‘em. A mercenary, I hit ‘em 
with verses dare ‘em to stand toe-to-toe wit’ me. 
I’m ready, but they ain’t really ‘bout that do it ‘cause they do it. 
They be doing what they thinking everybody else be doing. 
That’s stupid. 
I’m on that do what I be wanting to hear. 
So, if you like it, then that’s cool, ‘cause I got more of it here. 
And If you don’t, then that’s alright, you can move on to the rear. 
It ain’t my job to make you love it if you don’t, then it’s clear. 
So it’s back to the black hoodie, back to the black fitted, 
back to the basics. Hate it or take it. It’s black business. 

It’s not a game, not the same shit you’re used to. 
I do it cause I find it suitable – and hope you will decide it’s beautiful. 
But never my aim is to make what you want how you want when you want it,
I make what I like when I write. I’m alright when it’s right, so I’m writing this here in this moment.

[Hook]
So, fuck what you read.
I write what I what I write.
And I know, but fuck what she said.
I like what I like.
I’m impatient, and blatantly making my statements despite
any space of complacency. 
I write what I like.

Fuck what you read.
I write what I what I write.
And I know, but fuck what she said.
I like what I like.
I’m impatient, and blatantly making my statements despite
any space of complacency. 
I write what I like.


[3]
No shade, but this rap shit’s so played, and filled with actors, 
and scripts it’s like Hamlet, quite the cast of characters. 
I find it precarious [look it up]. 
I just want to do what I do, and I look at us 
and say, “Do it. 
No pretense. No pre-rinse. No pretend. No free days. No weekends.” 
Know he spends - notes and ends - with lonely friends, 
from the start until the dope beat ends. 
And while I’m at it, that’s Preme on the track, give him a hand for
keys, strings, kick drum, snare—it’s just a sample
of what I’m saying we do, and we got ample 
ammo. 
Joe, we cool like a pack of Camels.

It’s not a game, not the same shit you’re used to. 
I do it cause I find it suitable – and hope you will decide it’s beautiful. 
But never my aim is to make what you want how you want when you want it,
I make what I like when I write. I’m alright when it’s right, so I’m writing this here in this moment.
.
[Hook]
So, fuck what you think, 
I write what I what I write.
Do you. Drink what you drink.
I like what I like.
I’m impatient, and blatantly making my statements despite
any space of complacency. 
I write what I like.

Fuck what you think, 
I write what I what I write.
Do you. Drink what you drink.
I like what I like.
I’m impatient, and blatantly making my statements despite
any space of complacency. 
I write what I like.

[James Baldwin]: 
“I dropped into a silence 
in which I heard—for the first time really heard—and began to be able to try to deal with 
the beat 
of the language of the people who had produced me…

I was able to hear that music….”

[Additional vocals: Bad Dreams]” 


The Song I Should Have Written [Produced by Preme]

“Rap niggas who don't think much past figures are figurines, 
that you put in a cabinet for décor. You're listening 
to the evolution of revolution—won't be televised. 
Won't be tweeted, either; won't even see it with naked eyes.

I make it my number one priority. It's a war for the minds of the blind masses—
owning their own masters. 

They think the sheep in the pasture are eating grass, 
so they leave 'em to eat and don't even ask if they need it. After believing 
the propaganda, they properly propagate/copulate, 
and eat the same shit that they poppas ate, 
then they populate the planet planning to live off Arm & Hammer, 
to manage or make a living, since when is there harm in handling business?

You know, the damage of living inside a fantasy comes after understanding
that nothing's gonna be handed to you. 

The greatest trick you can pull involves wool 
and your eyes, and involves tying it tightly enough to blind you. 

[Hook]
Do what I tell you—search, and go find the Ledge
that I Know you don't know about, and then wait for what Simon Says. 

And since I know you can't see it, and you're kind of scared, 
just down a few pills, pop 'em and wait till you're outta there. 

Now, I'm a dare you to do it, and it sounds stupid, but jump—
I promise you that it's fun and it's what you want. 

Your role models are doing it, why should you not?
Cop quick. What's life living outside a shoebox?

[Verse 2]:
So, we got no more MLKs, Malcolms or Tupacs. 

All we have are Michaels and Jordans...and a few shots.

“It's all just a game, and we just the players.
That wasn't us. That was Mike Dunn and Jordan Davis. 
Or Trayvon and Zimmerman.” 

Play back. Listen again. 
Danger: Ignorance works like a carcinogen. 
Revving a car engine in park after it's started's not
doing shit but making loud noise in the parking lot.

We can walk it out for miles, march, demonstrate and protest, 
but it won't mean a goddamned thing. It's just gon' show next
time the line can be moved farther and be more obvious.
He said 50 years ago when the time for martyrs is.

So this ain't radical—it ain't me starting shit. 
It's me saying, maybe cash in on your country's promises.

Or wake up from that dream that you seem to be in
and take a hard look, for your kids, what you're 'bout to leave 'em.

[Hook]
Do what I tell you—search, and go find the Ledge
that I Know you don't know about, and then wait for what Simon Says. 

And since I know you can't see it, and you're kind of scared, 
just down a few pills, pop 'em and wait till you're outta there. 

Now, I'm a dare you to do it, and it sounds stupid, but jump—
I promise you that it's fun and it's what you want. 

Your role models are doing it, why should you not?
Cop quick. What's life living outside a shoebox?

[Verse 3: Louis Farrakhan]:
It’s time now for you to be delivered. 

America can’t hold you no more. 

She has no jobs for you, 

her factories closing down—

all she has is a plan of death for you. 

And that’s why drugs are in the black community. 

That’s why guns are in the black community.
You’re not shooting down your open enemy. 
You’re shooting each other down. 

But you’re going to pay a price

for killing your people. 

I’m gonna tell you the price in a minute, 
and then I’m through. 

But you will face EVERY word that you hear me say…”

[Hook]
Do what I tell you—search, and go find the Ledge
that I Know you don't know about, and then wait for what Simon Says. 

And since I know you can't see it, and you're kind of scared, 
just down a few pills, pop 'em and wait till you're outta there. 

Now, I'm a dare you to do it, and it sounds stupid, but jump—
I promise you that it's fun and it's what you want. 

Your role models are doing it, why should you not?
Cop quick. What's life living outside a shoebox?”


Find The Ledge [Produced by Preme]

"[1]
Even as I’m sitting down to write this, like it’s a letter home, 
feeling wrong in these bad lands, stand, and let alone. 
Let a loan put me in debt—inject the payback. 
They say that I can defer—waiting for May, back
when I was winning, winter was colder, summer was warmer. 

Mom and Pop was honored. The block had its performers. 

On the corners, where we were warned and heeded the warnings
we thought that normal living was chilling to see the morning. 

Now we see her mourning in black—how do we act?
Under attack—no tactical unit—choose to react
as reactionary and scary as victims tend to respond. 

Bomb first—storm on horizon—visually calm.

I’m your mutherfucking nightmare. 
And you won’t see my back to put another fucking knife there.
Chuckle if you must, but muster up the guts to set your feet to stand. 
I’ll show you how a boy can be a man. 

Manage to turn me to villain, 
then watch the cops pop me and drop me with little feeling. 

Paint a Sistine with six teens on ceilings
to document our descent to consenting to the killing.

It’s like we’ve seen it all before. 
History repeats. It ain’t unique, and being poor
or being black ain’t never been the thing to be, but even more, 
at least They had the decency to speak and see it as a war.


[2]
And over here they say it’s better—
but Here and Now is There and Then. 
We ain’t escaping terror. 

Nope.

Seems more like we’re inviting it.
Soldiers dying at war without even knowing they fighting it. 
Liken it to the lights going off—if it starts flickering.
You can call it progress. I’ll see it as an epiphany.

I won’t be digging me a grave unless I’m making space for you lay inside it. 
I ain’t lying down. I’m riding. 
I ain’t try’n’a sound defiant, 
but I’m down to join a riot if they try it. 
No trial, no choices. No child, 
no day, should have to fear for his life.
No way this is living. 
No place in this country.
Father forgive us. 
Ought to remember how far we’ve come, and be proud but
we’re reminded every 28 hours."


Letter Home [Produced By Truth]

“[1: A.D. Carson]
Make no mistake, it’s about G’s.
Understand, I don’t give a F, it’s about Ease. 
About Deez...flows I perfected—moment I Seized—
guy that I Be. And y’all ain’t really fucking with me.
It’s A. 
Opportune moment for me to hone it.
Belly full of hunger, ain’t no question do he want it. 
Every second dude is on it, man, he questions every second dude who’s on and
he’s coming up with less than few responses. 
I’m a let you do the nonsense. 
I’m a lecture you to let you to the conscience. 
I’m elected. A selected few I bond with. 
A respected dude who’s honest, 
I’m eclectic, too. I guess it’s due to Momma’s
hectic rules and sketching through them comics
and them metric school responses
that left us to our lessons full of garbage…
that never taught us Huey P or Garvey
and were February sorry…made we wonder are we even hardly
better off than when we started being chartered. 

I’m aiming for the godly—and not asking permission. 

Dues already paid but, no matter, it’s intuition I’m listening to and giving to you
when I’m doing this here. I’m sincere, 
and speak from experience—plenty sins here. 

[Hook]
That’s Truth on the beat, and I speak his name
even when I spit in the streets, you hear what I’m saying, 
but do what you will with it
I’m usually ill with it
and if I’m sick, it won’t even matter, you’ll still get it. 

Plenty time in, and I’m still with it. 
Still feel I’m fresh as a mint, and I still live it. 
Still deciphering ciphers with real lyrics. 
Still feel I rep where I’m from—and that’s Ill nigga.

[2: Truth]
Truth on the beat, so the beat’s gritty. 
Congregation says ‘Amen’ like Meek Milly.
Each and every street, city, 
state, country, who stay hungry, 
motto is ‘make money.’

Genetically, the pedigree is take money. 
Since the Cortés, Columbus ‘nem, they was jumping 
in and out of boats, cutting throats, taking slaves. 
Getting Mondays off for serial killers who paved the way
for the Berkshires and Sam Walton, Warren Buffet. 
Selling shares—ain’t sharing shit when going public. 
Say Lebron rich, Hov wealthy, stitching envy. 
Comparison to the real rich—they pitching pennies. 
[Uh] 
Sipping Henny got me honest. 
Wanna sip it.
Shit’s watered down.
Have it straight, and shit, you vomit. 
So, I pop snares, pluck basses, hitting chronic,
Like, 
“Don’t look at me…somebody gotta tell ‘em.’”

[Hook]
That’s Truth on the beat, and I speak his name
even when I spit in the streets, you hear what I’m saying, 
but do what you will with it
I’m usually ill with it
and if I’m sick, it won’t even matter, you’ll still get it. 

Plenty time in, and I’m still with it. 
Still feel I’m fresh as a mint, and I still live it. 
Still deciphering ciphers with real lyrics. 
Still feel I rep where I’m from—and that’s Ill nigga.”



Truth On The Beat [Produced By Truth] [Featuring Truth]

"[1]
Muthafuckas—say that I’m foolish ‘cause I’m rapping for school. 
Do you fools read my reviews or do you just skim through ‘em? 
I’m influenced by the ghettos I grew in, 
the same dude who paid dues decided to change rules. 
Never been stupid, and won’t assume it of you, but if you
don’t see my picture I ain’t painting for you. 
It’s just music I meant for you to listen to. Don’t confuse it 
with what it’s not. If you can use it, you should use it. If not, 
then do what you do. It ain’t for you to…condemn or condone it.
 I make it, then I say it and I own it. 
Never promoted hate speech. 
I’m more for break beats, but if it takes me
using that to get from there to over here, then I’m a make these work.
You see, I see the folks I teach like a mirror. 
And when I teach me, it’s this type of approach that is clearer. 
So I’m a be me, and stand behind my ‘fuck you’ to critics. 
So if you get it, then you got it and you get it. It’s as simple as that. 

[Hook]
All I do is pass time studying for class rhyme writing. 
Last night it was a different one. Today I’m back like tomorrow’s coming. 
Reading what I’m needing for next time. Teaching, trying to earn my keep. 
Time keep running, so I’m on it. 
And I can only say it how I see it, give it how I get it, speak it how I live it, 
therefore, this thinking of mine you only get sixteen at a time. 

[2]
Since I’m in a position to talk to these kids and they listen
I ain’t an academic, but I’ll kick it with ‘em a minute. 
You see I teach and I rap, and some people call it a gimmick, 
but I never thought it was different. Just got in where I fit, it’s
not rocket science. If I am the most inspired by poems, 
and then I write ‘em. How can I be expected to go on
and live without it. Let alone, never do what I say. 
So take your Sophocles, and I’ll do what you’re doing with Jay. 
But just wait—this ain’t to say that what you’re doing is wrong, 
and I’m right. I’m sure there’s no two people who are alike. 
There’s pedagogical problems, and if I claim I can solve ‘em [and I might], 
who’s to say what I do might do for the night, but then tomorrow, 
the same thing that we saw being done is being done, 
I guess that kind of brings us back to square one. Where to start
is where you are. I say you do what you can. 
If you can’t, then I don’t think you should be teaching. I’m saying, just think about it. 

[Hook]
All I do is pass time studying for class rhyme writing. 
Last night it was a different one. Today I’m back like tomorrow’s coming. 
Reading what I’m needing for next time. Teaching, trying to earn my keep. 
Time keep running, so I’m on it. 
And I can only say it how I see it, give it how I get it, speak it how I live it, 
therefore, this thinking of mine you only get sixteen at a time. 

[3]
See, I’m a poet to some—sometimes I have to teach Shakespeare. 
A teacher debating if what he’s saying relates here
to the moment we’re living in, in America now
is wasting time. I say you put him up against rhymes
of some of the best of the present. Prepare your lectures accordingly, 
then you’re good. It’s not so boring being historically open-minded. 
Hope you find it a better approach. Research. He ain’t the only one who said what he wrote. 
And ain’t no story original. Every one is another. 
So every song that you hear is another lesson discovered. 
Another story uncovered to couple up with the canon, 
and the planning might be a pain. But give it time, understanding 
that’s a process. And there’s a lot less 
that you could do and do worse. And what’s a little bit of change gonna hurt?
Not much. Besides, they say that what we do is the future. 
So, that’s time that’s well invested if it’s reaching your students, right? 

[Hook]
All I do is pass time studying for class rhyme writing. 
Last night it was a different one. Today I’m back like tomorrow’s coming. 
Reading what I’m needing for next time. Teaching, trying to earn my keep. 
Time keep running, so I’m on it. 
And I can only say it how I see it, give it how I get it, speak it how I live it, 
therefore, this thinking of mine you only get sixteen at a time." 



S.A.T. [Part II] [Produced by Preme]

“[1]
Everybody seems to be concerned with the greater good,
say the last thing we need is guns in our neighborhoods.
But when I weigh the good against the hoods wearing ‘em
I think that if it’s legal maybe we should think of bearing ‘em.

By comparison, I’ll give you an analogy:
I’m Trayvon Martin. George Zimmerman is after me.
He’s got a pistol. And all I got is snacks on me.
He proceeds to chase, eventually’s attacking me.
A lot of people will probably see it as blasphemy,
but if I had a pistol on me, then I could blast for me.
And maybe then there would have been a trial had for me
where I was the defendant to be convicted. Asking me,
is the prosecutor, under oath, nastily,
“Did you really have to kill him?” I’d say, “Actually,
I was just standing my ground cause he was after me.”

Now compare that story to the reality.

[Hook]
We got Freddie Gray, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice
and a whole bunch of people walking ‘round in fear like
we ain’t supposed to be mad. I’m thinking, “Yeah, right.”
How many people gotta die before it’s your fight.
How many people gotta suffer till you choose that.
It’s probably the most irresponsible, conscious, decision I’ve made to say this...
but I’m thinking shoot back.
 
[2]
It’s probably the most irresponsible, conscious, decision I’ve made to say this.
And a lotta people I know prob’ly won’t play this.
But fuck it. They say you have the constitutional right.
Who gone protect you as you move through the night?
You got media that’s malicious, 
people starting militias, 
they holding on to guns like it’s a part of they religion. Swear we coming to get ‘em.
They want they country back so 
they avoid the fact that it was built on our backbones,
Revise history like The Man in the High Castle. 
They want men like me to be cool with being they chattel.
But I ain’t on that slave shit.
I ain’t with that "Boss is you sick?"
The most you’ll get from me is a hock of this spit.
And that’s it.
I’m saying, ain’t no crime in standing my ground.
I ain’t gone wait for people standing around,
hope they recording it.
Nope. If I’m danger and it’s from the police,
I’m supposed to call another police?

[Hook]
Rekia Boyd, Miriam Carey, Aiyana Jones...
All killed. We’re all here. They’re all gone.
We ain’t supposed to have fear? I’m thinking, “Y’all, wrong.”
How many people gotta die before it’s your song.
How many people gotta suffer till you choose that.
It’s probably the most irresponsible, conscious, decision I’ve made to say this...
but I’m thinking shoot back.

[3]
They say it’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.
And I ain’t saying nothing we don’t know, but to stop having to hashtag names
of blacks that’s slain
we must observe facts that’s plain.
 And guns ain’t the answer; they the problem, 
but the law of the land, 
the same law that said I wasn’t a man, 
says that I can keep and bear arms. 
My sleeves rolled up so I can be prepared. I
Won’t be slowed up by people saying it’s a worse solution.
And what’s worse, these people don’t see it as persecution. 
So legally I’m supposed to be me, and be free, and not live in fear,
when history says they do not want me here?

I’m thinking well regulated militia. Who gone police the police?
Oh, we’re gone wait until they kill some more of us on the streets?

[Hook]"


Second Amendment [Shoot Back] [Produced By Preme]

“I’m from where the 
murder rate is disturbing but no curbing the crime.
Time and time again you’ll find the swine has a purpose but trying 
to protect and serve—ain’t the one you see ‘em doing. 
Hear the pistol fire and it’s likely them that’s shooting. 

Ain’t no policing the police, but at least we all know it. 
And ain’t no dreaming in the streets about being a poet. 
We owe it all to public schools where the rules is to show it
that you know the answers to the test but unless it’s an oval 

that we filling in, then the feeling is like swimming and drowning.
And Black is Black. We don’t distinguish from cinnamon, brown and
mahogany, onyx and all of it’s chronic so we swallowing tonic 
and wallowing all in it…see I find it ironic
that this is iconic. It’s marketed, so you want it, and I sell with promise. 
And I can guarantee—
he’s got a bullet and a badge and took an oath to protect and to serve, but just a look
and he’s scared of me. 

And I’m aware that he is, but I wonder are you. 
And they ain’t asking you to freeze ‘fore they open and shoot. 
I know you think “He got degrees,” but I’m hopeless as you. 
A nigga with a PhD’s still a nigga when blue lights flash and I match the description
ain’t no explaining that. 
Ain’t no amount of philosophy spit negating that. 
Can’t quote a book and then hope you out, 
if he’s got a badge and he believes that he can choke you out.
Hands up; stand up, and they shooting you down. 
So keep your eyes on your mirror when you cruise through your town.
I’m from where the boys in blue don’t play. 
Cough up a lung where I’m from—USA…

[Additional Audio: Interview of DeRay McKesson by Wolf Blitzer for CNN]”


Broken Windows [Produced By Truth]

“[1]
This one for the niggas,
the ones that was called that descriptor
when they was delivered 

out there in Virginia,
the ones ever since who have taken the care to defend the 

people surrendered from coast to the coast to the cold and the whip of the lash, 
I never lived it, but I’ll tell now…
boy it’s familiar.
Said, boy, it’s familiar. 

For the gangs with the chains on they hands and they ankles it ain't just a sankofa song.
For the Kings, whether Martin or Rodney, who knew it unlikely but asked could we all get along!
For the answer we know to that question that keep us a little suspicious,
We ain't the first that have wished it. 
We ain't the first ones to get it. 
Said, boy, it's familiar.

For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters
who don't get attention but often are victims,
so they suffer in silence from all kinds of violence
and try as they might we don't listen.

For the beatings, the treatment, the rapings, the hangings and lynchings,

I hope that we can be forgiven.
I never lived it, but boy, it's familiar. 
Say, boy, it’s familiar.

All black on my windows,
pistol under my pillow,

if I'm an activist, I'm no pacifist.
I'm just keeping shit real, though.

I ain't turning a blind eye, 
and I ain't expecting no heroes.

I ain't pressing no 911, 
but I ain't living in fear, though.

[Hook]
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what?
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? 
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? The same shit.
Now what? The same shit. 

Boy, it's familiar,
mess with them boys, and they kill you,
then get a lawyer to deal with 
annoying appeals to
the public to show 'em they did 'em 
a favor destroying a villain.  

No, you ain't living

if you know you ain't living
but seconds away from a sentence,
making a way for a system.
You die or they take you to prison.
Take what they know you ain't giving.

[2]
This one for the niggas
who just got from prison,
or on they way, stuck on the ave. 

Hustle from morning to evening for things that they need
or the things they can have.

City's so cold, that you gotta fend for yourself, they compare it to Iraq, 
‘cause it’s a war that we live in. 
Imagine the war when our children say “Boy, it’s familiar."

For the gangs and the fame
and the whips and the chains
and the game that we play through the pain

that we drench ourselves in when we win
since we win at the game then it seems we should call it Champ Pain. 

Elevated—we taking the L but we winning, 
‘cause we still living. 
Living through pain, but we living. 
Giving through strain, but we giving. 
Boy, it’s familiar.

For the mothers, the daughters, the sisters
we don't give attention but often are victims,
We inflict them with violence
and tell them to suffer in silence, so why would we listen?

For the beatings, the treatment, the rapings, the hangings and lynchings,
I hope we can be forgiven.
I hope we can be forgiven.
Boy, it's familiar. 

All black on my windows,
pistol under my pillow,

if I'm an activist, I'm no pacifist.
I'm just keeping shit real, though.

I ain't turning a blind eye, 
and I ain't expecting no heroes.

I ain't pressing no 911, 
but I ain't living in fear, though.

[Hook]
Now what?
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what?
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? 
The same shit. The same shit.

Now what? The same shit.
Now what? The same shit. 

Boy, it's familiar,
mess with them boys, and they kill you,
then get a lawyer to deal with 
annoying appeals to
the public to show 'em they did 'em 
a favor destroying a villain.  

No, you ain't living

if you know you ain't living
but seconds away from a sentence,
making a way for a system. 
You die or they take you to prison.
Take what they know you ain't giving.” 


Synchronized: A History of Aquacades from Rome to New York

Abigail Bradford

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