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Saturday, 15 July 2017


Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?
Imma black nigga in a racist world, how'd you think i'd stand tall without any stool.

There's no real ladder for the 'dark of skin'.
While white folks hand stuff down... straight to their next of kin.

Money makes the world go round.
Without it am under, buried deep like a nut yet to germinate in the ground.
Without it does a man really live?

12 years a slave, 12 times 365 times 24 ...
Working under the blackening sun, getting an extra tan till we fall like leaves in the autumn.

So, dear death if you take me while my beads of sweat kiss the sand.
Remind those behind me that it's from dust to dust.

That the skewed system was never gone, Twas just modernized.
While we're in the kitchen cooking the green, they're out there dining... chewing our spleen.

But black don't crack, even if they treat us like nuts.
We're always paper chasing, be it certifications or monetary denominations.
Both feet on the ground never lazy. 

So death, before you take us.. ensure we pass this "Never give up" mentality to our kids.

So for every time our colonial masters swindled the kings of that time.
Let it push 'em to break boundaries, motivating their own children to draw inspiration... fiddling notes into their diaries.

Their focus not shifted by 'Insta Live' or 'Whatsapp Stories'
Dear death before you take us ensure we don't leave with so much hate.

Hate for the people that used us, rode us here and there... 'gallop, gallop' like horses.
For true triumph resides not in spite or pettiness.

But in sterling success.
Without any dent or taint.
So when my body finally fails the 'exams' of the living, and am 6 feet under.

Satisfaction would be stuck on my face.
I braced up for the chase.
I aced.
I forgave.

I passed on new traditions.
I inculcated into a new breed.
They in turn sowed new seeds.
Finally paper chase meets death.
And there is no regret.