 Three piece, first song by Cristiana Cologne. I didn't want that, fame, money, whatever. It's not what we own. Whole thing gotta come down. Like, equality ain't just sitting at the front of a bus just like equality ain't a white boy brain's blown out on the ground next to big mic big brains blown out on the ground. Equality ain't a little white boy belly pump full of bullets on a swing set to mirror rice belly ripped open on a fuckin' playground. But that would be something, wouldn't it? Eye for an eye, belly for belly, white baby for black baby. That would be something, but. Ain't what we bound. That what they afraid we bound. We bound, how can we live without blood money? They call us thugs, criminals, terrorists, whatever, but they wanna tax me to live on land they stole. I mean, they stole me and when it taxed me to live on land, they also stole. Y'all seen them fucked up about that equation? I mean, no, no, no, who fuckin' violent? Who fuckin' genetically criminal? I am not genetically criminal. No, no, no, but to keep it really real, I initially just came out for the lootin'. Yeah. Lootin' what brought me out? Ah, a little come up, whatever. Folks bustin' in glass and rackin', fastin' in Ferguson PD, kin' Radio Delwood, kin' Radio Floresin', kin' Radio Clayton and Berkeley. Snatched up rhinestones, jeans, kicks, man, cartons of Marlboro cheese, Pampers. See, whole thing gotta come down. Talk about looting. We was taught still in this way to prosper. You still people, you prosper, you still land, you prosper, you still flash, dreams, pussy, you still time and you fuckin' prosperin' this motherfucker, man, but I still a PlayStation and I gotta do a beard, man? Get the fuck outta here, man. You wanted me on these streets, man. You wanted me here. You wanted me here. You wanted a little thrill at your edges, me all dark and takin' up space, me all fuckin' in fatalism. If target practice like jaggin' off, I'm a fuckin' porn star. Yeah, you get off the thoughts of me while you aim at a paper villain across the range. And that's why I say the whole thing got to come down. That's why I first came out for the looting, but the second night I came out for the looting and I ain't wanna take nothin'. I just stood out there in the smoke, talkin' to my brothers, man, choppin' it up. With my brothers, I thought I lost. Brothers I ain't know I had and I stood out there and I saw these brothers I ain't wanna see dead. And we started guardin' the stores. Yeah, we started guardin' the stores, we were looting, make sure ain't no one else come through the glass. And I saw these bodies on the street, man. All these bodies on the street, man. Saw these bodies on the street on West Florissant. All these young black bodies, august hot. Sun lay on them all day. Muscles humming with sweat come nightfall. And for the first time in long time, I saw them bodies and I ain't want them to die. I mean, I gave a fuck. I saw my brothers. I saw my brothers and I knew if we wanna live, we gotta be the police. We're not gonna be police by motherfuckers who want us bleedin'. They got armor, we got armor. We gotta be armor. They got batons and rifles, man. I love gotta be a baton. Our tongue gotta be our rifle. We gotta love ourselves so hard we police our motherfuckin' self. Whole thing gotta come down. Three piece meets Shea by Christiana Cologne. Three piece steps into the beauty supply store through the human shaped hole in the glass storefront. He cradles a broken cash register wrapped in a towel like a swaddled infant. Shea sweeps broken glass, headphone and ears, blasting something ratchet. She dances with the broom. Three piece sets the register on the glass display case also spited from impact. Packs of weave clutter the floor. Three piece plops the register on the counter, causing the splintered glass to shatter and the register to collapse into the display case. Shea, startled, fluidly grabs a bat from behind the counter and swings it at three piece. He ducks the blow. Fuck outta here for our college. Clean this shit all goddamn day. The cops ain't got you. Man, call my whole set to ride in your monkey ass, though. Oh, man, bitch, fuck you screamin' ass. Fuck you comin' in here breakin' more shit while I'm tryin' to clean up this shit. Y'all got damn feverin' asses on the bus stop. I ain't bring shit. I came to give you back your funky ass cash register. It kind of already broke. It wasn't broke like that. Well, a lot of shit more broke than we thought now ain't. Is there anything in it? What? Any money in the register. Nah. Shea goes to lift the register out of the display case, but she's short and it's deep. She struggles. Three piece goes to help. She tries to box him out. He reaches in again and she bodies him away. He advances once more. Quit tryin' to push up on my booty, though. Bitch, ain't nobody thinkin' about your ass. I'm tryin' to help me. I'm tryin' to help me. No crackhead friends wanna destroy my motherfucking place of employment. Now all of a goddamn sudden think you suck all the time. I didn't have shit to do with your place getting cashed, and you need to be talkin' crazy while I stick it back. And register outside your big, mellon ass head. Man, keep on threatenin' me, see if I don't call the cops. Call him, bitch! He call me in just one more time. See if I don't get the whole goddamn National Garden here. Three piece finally fishes the register out of the display case and shoves it into Shea's arms. She sets it on the floor and begins trying to open it, but the damage has made it jam shut. I was on night patrol last night. Shay is unimpressed. I mean, I stood out here making sure nobody else came in. Me and about six other brothers. Well, you must want a purple heart. She continues to struggle with the register. You say you gonna call the cops on me. Not come to say that I'm the new cops, baby. Ha! And if you want, I can send some folks in here to help you clean up. Yeah, Ms. Miranda will think it's a great idea for me to let the motherfuckers who destroyed his livelihood in here to clean him out, talking about they helping me clean up. I was born at night, not last night, nigga. I'm lucky he ain't firing my ass already. He fired all the other girls, but he know I got the most babies, so I guess he was nice enough not to fire me. Shay finally cracks open the register. She lifts the cash tray and then a small metal sheet beneath the cash tray where she finds an envelope full of big bills. Niggas make the dumbest criminals. At least for white people, still they do it right. Shay counts out a few bills for herself, rolls them up, shows them in her bra. She dials Mr. Miranda on her cell phone. Hi, yeah. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. No, everything is Mr. Miranda. I already redid the inventory in the back. I'm just trying to, by Friday, tomorrow? What time tomorrow? I'd have to stay here all night to finish that by myself. Yes, yes, I do. I know you do. Thank you, Mr. Miranda. Huh? Oh, yeah, I was calling to tell you the cops brought the register back. Yeah, it's broke, but it looked like it'd be cheaper to fix it when we get the whole new one, and cheaper to fix it than to get a whole new one, so. Yeah, there it is. All the register cash was gone, but it was still some money under the tray. I ain't counting yet. You never gave me the combination to the safe. She hangs up. The owner on the way to get this money, so you might want to get up on out of here because I may not call the cops on you, but he most definitely will if he don't shoot you on sight. Now, why you let that man disrespect you like that? Like what? Like you stupid, untrustworthy. He trusts you when it come time to sweep up glass, but don't trust you enough to hold on on some money. He counted it as a loss already. Things are kind of dangerous right now. Why you ain't been out there? Excuse me, didn't you hear me say you need to go? Take a walk with me. Maybe you need the police to come whoop your ass, knock some sense into that ugly head with a night stick. You want to see that? My head cracked open on the concrete. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe I just want you to leave so I don't lose this job because I almost have enough safe for security deposit on my own apartment. And I'm sick and goddamn tired and my mama always telling me my rules smell like weed and having to do the dishes for all my grown ass brothers and sisters. Well, we marching from Canfield to the PDS-7. Come through when you get up. No good. You know you don't be doing no damn marching. We marching at seven. Who is we? The people. I ain't the people. Every night at seven. Every night. So they lock that man up. Then you gonna march off the edge of the earth. They not gonna lock up no cops. Then I'll march off the edge of the earth, but you gonna march with me. Maybe not tonight, but eventually you gonna have to. Mr. Miranda, just as quick to put a bullet in you and starve your babies. You only as good as the next chicken head who won a weekly discount on her weave. Help that man build his fortune in America and he wouldn't pee on your jellyfish stain. Three piece pulls out a gun and aims it at shade. And if I came in here to rob you, rape you, rape you, rob you and set you on fire, how hard you think the cops will work to identify your remains, huh? You think they sent a motherfucking forensic team to dust for my fingerprints if it wasn't no goddamn broken glass? You just be another dead trick with no name. He puts away the gun. Eventually, you won't have to pick a side. Let me know if you want me to send a team in there to help you clean up after we march.