The Paramara (also known as Panwar, Punwar and Parmar) are a RajputandGurjar tribe in North India who claim descent from the mythological Agnivansha dynasty. A Garasia clan also uses this title, claiming descent from the Rajputs.
Denzil Ibbetson, an administrator of the British Raj, classified the Paramara as a tribe rather than as a caste. He believed, like Nesfield, that the society of the Northwest Frontier Province and Punjab Province in British India did not permit the rigid imposition of an administratively-defined caste construct as his colleague, Herbert Hope Risley preferred. According to Ibbetson, society in Punjab was less governed by ideas of caste based on varna and instead was more open and fluid. Tribes, which he considered to be kin-based groups that dominated small areas, were the dominant feature of rural life. Caste designators, such as Jat and Rajput, were status-based titles to which any tribe that rose to social prominence could lay a claim, and which could be dismissed by their peers if they declined. Susan Bayly, a modern anthropologist, considers him to have had "a high degree of accuracy in his observations of Punjab society ... [I]n his writings we really do see the beginnings of modern, regionally based Indian anthropology."
Again I start this but I'll add a new twist
So the masses can't resist
The message brought by a Panther strictly
To relieve the disease of the sickly
So long your mind's been trapped
Slave, 'cause you're shamed to be black
Ignorant of the purpose of the plan
To keep the black man down under
So I'll address y'all this time
Make a statement that's on my mind
Brothers scared of revolution should be
Thinkin' of the way that we could be
Miss blue eyes, how'd you do that?
Tried to put him in but the skin is still black
Thinkin' of a way to escape the darkness
See the weave and indeed I start this off
Black is black is black is black off
Black is black is black is black
S E D I T I O N
In the mood of the move I'm showin'
See the way the clinches have been torn
Cold spittin' facts to the miracle Earth born
So what's your next move, black?
Go to school or maybe join a frat
Still you seem lost, the mind is brainwashed
It can't be good 'cause your mind's the cost
So flip on your Young MC
Or Jazzy Jeff or whatever the case be
Mindless music for the masses makes ya
Think less of the one that hates ya
Then trained to respect the game
And you turn your back on a black with the same claim
Oh, blessed but you guess they mean less
Because another brother can't afford to dress
The way you do but who said you're all that?
Made a little money, now your skin ain't black?
C'mon I don't think your shit don't stink
You can't run from the one whose primal instinct
Is to fought the words I taught ya
Thought you moved quick but I just caught ya
Now you try to say that you don't remember me
I'm P-Dog from the B.P. posse
Or a mob, that's known as Scarface
Pro-black and some think pro-hate
But in fact it's a call for unity
Heed the plea of weak we're soon to be
Move, start this
Black is black is black is black
Enter the dark side
Black is black is black is black
Yeah, funky
Dance
Now who did you think that you were steppin' to
Once your job came through
Don't get big, 'cause I caught your accent
Shoulda been real but you wanted mass appeal
Next time you might think of this
Might remember why I'm above this
But for now, my brother, I'll say