Maybe the angriest one he ever did:
There was a woman downstairs in the apartment my wife and I lived in when we were in NYC. She had been through a whole lot of the protests, riots and aftermath of the civil rights movement and later protests during the 1960s and early 1970s. She was one of the more intelligent people I have know over the years, but her ancestry and time and place of birth meant that she was driving a taxi in New York instead of something else. Even in the early and mid 1980s when we were living in Manhattan, some pretty ugly things happened to people who didn't earn it, right in front of me. It wasn't news. It was routine.
I was in 7th grade in 1972 when this one came out and missed most of it at the time. But, I very well knew the tenor of the times and what was going on around the country. I remembered it well only about a decade later as a young adult. So, when I finally stumbled on this rap from Gil Scott-Heron, it was immediate and compelling.
I hope this doesn't come across as political, because it's not meant to be that way. It's meant to be a look into the abyss of fear that was there at the time and the music that came from it. There's a rawness that is still there to find right under the surface while listening to that song.