Colour Chameleon Brotha

Help me. 

I really need you to

'Cause frankly, on my own

I just can't seem to wrap my head around

Some of the things you do.

You idle on street corners

From sunrise 'til dark of night

Watching other people hustle

While you stand around and pick fights.

You gawk at all the ladies

As they pass round your way

And give whistles and cat calls

Which you seem to regard 

As some kinda foreplay.

You hangin' around 

Refusin' to work

And give others a shake-down 

Like they owe you a part 

Of the fruit of their labour,

Of their sweat and their pain-

Tell me, are you a man

Or some carrion crane?

You watch me as I walk

And make dirty remarks 

In part to soothe a guilty conscience

From the things you do in the dark.

You attack and you threaten,

You harass and beat down,

You puff yourself up

When your crew is in town,

Then come back all humble

When there's no one around.

All these things you do

In the presence of others

But turn around when you need me

And say that we're brothers.

Well, tell you what Mr. Man,

I may be gentle but I am not weak,

I may sound inexperienced but I'm anything but thick;

You may see me walk humble

But I'm certainly not cheap.

And as for the fact 

That we could be family,

Well,

Colour may say you're a brother

But you're a stranger to me.