“WHO AM I” Vocals by 12Gauge858

“WHO AM I?” Performed Vocals. 12Gauge858 Written by 12Gauge858 Music Created: August 9, 2026 Copyright © 2026 12Gauge858 Music. All Rights Reserved. INTRO Before anybody asked me what I was… I already knew whose hands held mine. My father… white skin… metal screaming through the speakers. My mother… Black… a soulful queen… singing like Sunday morning could heal anything. And somewhere between his thunder… and her soul… there was me. ⸻ VERSE 1 Daddy had guitars turned up loud enough to shake the walls, Mama had a voice so warm it made a hard man stop. He taught me not to fear the noise, she taught me how to feel. One gave me fire in my blood… one showed me a wounded heart could heal. I never saw two different colors sitting at our kitchen table. I just saw the man who raised me… and the woman who called me baby. But somewhere outside that front door… the questions started coming. ⸻ PRE-CHORUS What are you? No… what are you really? Like somehow one answer… had to erase the other. ⸻ CHORUS Who am IIIIIIIIIII…? Tell me… what do you see when you look at me? His fire? Her soul? Which half do you need me to be? Are you Black? Are you white? Neither… I’m human. I’m not half of anything… I’m… WHOOOOOOOOLE. ⸻ VERSE 2 I learned young a mirror ain’t the problem… It’s the eyes standing behind you. Everybody brought a little box and tried their best to put me inside one. Too light over here… too dark over there… “Pick one.” Why? Which piece of my blood you asking me to bury? Which parent you asking me to deny? If I carry my father’s fire… and my mother’s soul… why does loving both of them make you need me to choose a side? ⸻ PRE-CHORUS 2 You keep asking where I belong… Maybe that’s the question you’ve been getting wrong. I don’t stand between two worlds. Both worlds… stand inside me. ⸻ CHORUS 2 WHOOOOOO AM IIIIIIIIIII…? Look closer… don’t tell me what you need to see. His fire lives here. Her soul lives here. And neither one takes anything from me. Am I Black? Am I white? I’m human. Not divided… not unfinished… not half… WHOOOOOOOOLE. ⸻ BREAKDOWN For years… “Who am I?” sounded like a question. Like something about me needed solving. Then one day… I looked in that mirror… and stopped asking permission to recognize myself. My father’s son. My mother’s son. Their histories don’t fight inside my blood. They… made… ME. ⸻ FINAL CHORUS WHOOOOOOOOOOOO… AM… IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII?! I AM HIS FIRE! I AM HER SOUL! I don’t need your little box to tell me that I’m whole! You ask… “Are you Black?” You ask… “Are you white?” Neither. I’m… HUMAAAAAAAAAAN. I don’t stand between them! They both stand… IN MEEEEEEEEEEEE! I’m not fifty of this… fifty of that… I’M ONE HUNDRED PERCENT… MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! ⸻ OUTRO So… who am I? My father’s son. My mother’s son. But before every color… before every box… before anybody decided what I should call myself… I was human. And I was… whole.