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Artist: Gil Scott-Heron
Album:  Small Talk at 125th and Lenox
Song:   Brother
Typed by: AZ Lyrics

We deal in too many externals, brother
Always afros, handshakes, and dashikis

Never can a man build a working structure for black capitalism
Always does the man read Mao or Fanon

I think I know you would-be black revolutionaries too well
Standing on a box on a corner, talking about blowing the white boy away
That's not where it's at, yet, brother

Calling this man an Uncle Tom
And telling this woman to get an afro
But you won't speak to her if she looks like hell, will you, brother?

Some of us been checking you act out kinda closely
And by now it's looking kinda shaky, the way you been rushing people with your super-black bag
Jumping down on some black men with both feet because they are after their B.A
But you're never around when your B.A. is in danger
I mean your black ASS

I think it was a little too easy for you to forget that you were a negro before Malcolm
You drove your white girl through the village every Friday night
While the grass roots stared in envy and drank wine
Do you remember?

You need get your memory banks organized, brother
Show that man you call an Uncle Tom just where he is wrong
Show that woman that you are a sincere black man

All we need to do is see you SHUT UP AND BE BLACK
Help that woman
Help that man
That's what brothers are for, brother