[Verse 1: Neak]

Home

What it look like, they say it’s inside I roam

I know my grandmas outside of em lost can't phone

Recalling the past gone, only vision is psalms, preachers, evangelists, scriptures in psalms, unknown

Beyond the pews identities fused

Slave ships Atlantic cruise, ancestors refused they freedom what did we lose, y’all?

I say we lost more than any could see see the treatment not equal all, see us

Pull up police called, flip side some shoot out with they brothers police stall

All-in-all it brings to quеstion what evolved, we can’t accеpt another century of being lost people

What I thirst for I can’t find it on the steeple

This crucifixion, not in religion, past the pores, it’s skin deep to the core

That I can no longer ignore

Who am I beloved.....not quite sure.....

[Chorus: Cam Be]

How do I love you when you don’t love me

What is freedom, if we really ain’t free

I say home is where the hatred is

Maybe this, maybe this, maybe this ain’t home

[Verse 2: Neak]

Home

Loving self as I see it Leone

Diamond, worshiping external my throne I find this known, to be a truth that’s homegrown hysteria on

When we arrive looking fresher than a Kanye clone

Realize this is set in stone heart made of stone

Nothing bout me say love, my complexion is black we on the covers of magazines loved for our talent but our soul disowned

I get it Nina Simone

We are gifted black youngins blinded

My white homie could go back about seven generations in no time and I can’t envision past one-two uncles, old-timers

History Alzheimer’s when trying vision the past

Kind of hard to see it of you’ve never seen it

It’s like darkness all around yesteryear scenic, not

I wish it was, cause I trade it all for it

No vision for my lineage cause I ain’t even know it

[Chorus: Cam Be]

How do I love you when you don’t love me

What is freedom, if we really ain’t free

I say home is where the hatred is

Maybe this, maybe this, maybe this ain’t home

(excerpt):

If you’re looking at Rembrandt, you’re looking at Leonardo, you’re looking at all these people….all the figures in those paintings are white…

And for a long time, that doesn’t matter, because those artists are who they are and the work is magnificent with those figures

But when you wanna do a representation yourself

You have to come up against the notion, that figures that look like you, are not represented, in the pantheon of great paintings, except as peripheral, or exceptional kinds of images

And so for me as an African-American artist, I wanna see images of black people, central to the pictorial strategy of the work, and not just occasionally, I wanna see em all the time