A 1980 exodus of 125,000 dreams, a quest to find
out what freedom really means at any cost. Boat
loads of Cubans lost in a maze of red tape and
hate, entered this country through the bottom of
the united states and straight set up shop. As
Arthur McDuffie was being beat to death by four
white cops this world was about to face the
music. Between the El Mariel and the 1980 riots,
we as minorities Americans could no longer take
our freedom for granted and misuse it because
incase you haven’t notices we’ve gone from the El
Mariel boatlift to the Hurricane Katrina bus lift
with the same response. With America standing to
help us with one hand on her hips and the other
one on her guns. Like 9/11 some how made us all
Americans but it took a tragedy to make us all
feel like we were one. You see the El Mariel
boatlift, Hurricane Katrina and the Oklahoma
bombings, we all got something in common and
that’s the desire to enjoy a freedom that can not
be rearranged by fear. To let nothing stand in the
way of the freedom of those who chose to live here
so today is 1980 again and I’m that bus that
crashed through the gates of the Peruvian
embassy. I hope that when I spit this poem the
whole world will remember me. I’m screaming like
[something] give us us our free, me Pitbull and
this industry.
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