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Anonymous
>>292544 I think you're right. It's time for a poem.
Coon, coon, black baboon, Dirty, worthless, thieving goon, Often high, thrives in jail, His welfare check is in the mail, Some twenty children he has had, Not one will ever call him dad, And yet he hollars, day and night:
"I blames de white man 'fo my plight! It's him spreads trash all round my shack, It's him what makes me smoke dis crack, He push my kind to burn an' loot, And sends de po-lice dat we shoot, But inch by inch we 'takin hold, Like when de white bread starts to mold, We'll overrun 'yo homes and soon, Dey be only fit 'fo de blackassed coon!"
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