Forgotten, overlooked, freedom ain't Bueno; shits fucking cooked.
Ain't nothing more than tokens, displayed throughout museums, locked up as crooks.
Some died as troops, some flew the coop to the spirit world, shot dead cause the cops were spooked.
Or cause someone accidentally sent the priests on the loose.
Oh shit, got the savages advocating again; I hope someone gets out the tear gas and the nooses.
Excessive forces are their re-cources, bringing out the terra nullius to justify their abuses.
We are left in the third world to pick up the pieces, trying desperately to rediscover our grassroots.
But firewater and drugs are mass-produced, a devastation that got one feeling as if smallpox was re-introduced.
Watching as suicide rates go through the fucking roof.
But trauma got us so desensitized and so aloof.
Some cannot heal, while others are too afraid of the truth.
That we have become our own greatest oppressive brutes.
Shoot!
Scars desecrate our spirit; I know yawl don't want to hear it.
Our ways have been poisoned, yet some yawl still refuse to cure it.
Our canoes need to be rebuilt.
I know some of you don't want to hear this because you fear it!
But we must rise up and push through it!
Although there may be blood in the soil, there is still time to start blooming.
So, let's get to it!
Shit may not be dandy I ain't lion, but we gotta be resilient like a dandelion.
They can try to trap us in concrete, but we push through it, reaching for that horizon.
I knew life wasn't perfect, yet why were minorities' settings locked on Ninja Gaiden?
I swear this shit got me more confused than Joe Biden.
Fumbling down the stairs without a hint of tequila with the lime in.
But if one gets injured, the hospital ain't give ya the time, man.
Don't matter if ya rock the dimes; the colour equates to a crime.
A colour that keeps em blind, so they'd rather watch us die cause they don't give a damn, man!
Ironic how, in this day and age, we are still seen as a problem.
Ironic how, in this day and age, many of us are still doing what we can to keep on surviving.
Whether that ends up with us becoming felons or dandelions.
Scars desecrate our spirit; I know yawl don't want to hear it.
Our ways have been poisoned, yet some yawl still refuse to cure it.
Our canoes need to be rebuilt.
I know some of you don't want to hear this because you fear it!
But we must rise up and push through it!
Although there may be blood in the soil, there is still time to start blooming.
So, let's get to it!