Maya Angelou asks, why you cryin' little black boy?
You sitting here in Harlem, feel it in yo blood, let the inspiration flow.
Why you cryin', little black boy?
Because you gay and you black, like nobody knows?
Because they don't like yo hair, they don't like yo nose?
Take yo shoes off baby, feel the gravel under yo toes.
Because you got a disease, and the cure no one knows.
Let's enjoy this birthday, before your beautiful eyes close.
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