riding through the avenues with the pen

Lord you chose me for a purpose, your mercy doesn't come on purpose, more than a college degree, more than a soon to be father to be, my imperfections stood out so much so i used the pen to write my wrongs, but sometimes my constitutional rights are worthless, pull the curtain back on 44 and you'll see he's still politikin', say that around supporters and you hear crickets, versatile enough to run a country and still be humble enough to tell a white man "all my kind are not murderers", racial under tones floating on the tip of classmates tongues, ancestors all used to be Butler's if you think about it, miss pops but it get's harder to show the closer I'm a father to be, crack rocks used to be our terrorist, no matter the struggle, the joyful tears sometimes are the heaviest, But thank God for Christ because his carried us