De Tales of African Man
Dem tok say dirty no de kill African man
Na becos say wetin him eye don see, death no de part of de plan.
After dem don knack am for ground finish,
He still no tremble like sea fish.
Him eye de set on de price
And until he get am, he no fit do revise.
He no go do revise!
No be after all de hustle wey he take reach here
Before him mama eyes, African man brodas and sistas were gunned down still him no fear.
Man live through centuries of passed down bloodshed, colonialism and slave trade
Na why him start dis parade
Man still de cry, still de shed tears
Deep down him know say na only struggle, go take am there.
Dem think say dey don see man finish but wetin him carry not fit finish.
Na him branded skin wey Dem demolish na him he wan refurbish becos No shade de shine like blackish.
De show, wey he go show
wey go blow still de cook,
Na de firewood wey man de here since the blow
Birds of the same feathers na one mama born dem all
African man carry him land for diverse heads
De walk through historic paths as in de days of him father’s
He de fly high he no need feathers
African man ride… even without pedals
Him na passed down recipes of arts and culture
Hides and skin, traditions retained through sculptures
He still de gulp down every supper with water
Him no de use jazz, still him beats get bass
Man was raised to be among de stars.
African man don collect, still he wear jeans
the vibes wey de him body no fit commot e dey him genes
Dem say “follow who know road” na him own road wey him walka he no borrow
becos na determination fit make okada overtake trailer
African man don take him stance for dis land him baba give am
East, West, North and South boku he no fit count am.
So when him doings start to alarm,
no think say na scam
Becos there’s always a hustle with muscle behind every African man.